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FIR5T -EDITION OF- 

■THE- BEE- 
FVBLISHED -17.59- 

FIRST- EDITION - OF- 
-OTHER-ESSA»K- 
PVBUiHED- -1765- 



'ftimrrtririm'n'm'maak 




^^e BEE !l 

OTHER 
ESSAY5 

by^^isl Jil] 

OLIVER! 
GOLDSMITH {6 












/4y^?'^"*// 






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( 



• 1 i I ' . - - y 



/-■'BHAhl' 



»•".—-' « 



j^.L-rX. ;^v^o^•^m- 







THE^EE^ ' . i 

»^ ' ■• PAGE 

The Bee. Nq. I.-r-Intcp^uctio.n.. , R^emarks^n our ;, . ;< 

^ Theatres. The Story of Alcander and Septi- !, 

mlu8. • A Letter from a' Traveller. A Short ' ' 
Account of the late Mr I^du];$^rtuis ' . ' '.' 3 

The Bee. No. II.— Oii Dress. Some, particulir^ "^ 
relative to Charles XII. not tottulnonly knoWA'. 
Happiness,, in a great ^lAbasnrt, dep^tid^nt on;- '' 
Constitiutiop. On our Theatres , . . . »6 

The Be^. ' No. IIf.-u.Onithe Us^ of Language pThe 
:~ History of H^atia. On Justice and Ge i w^ iJai t y.. / -.{ 
Some particulars relating to Father Frei jo . 48 

The Bee. No. IV. — Miscellaneous. A Flemish 
Tradition. The Sagacity of some Insects. 
The Characteristics of Greatness ... 67 

The Bee. No. V.— On Political Frugality. A 
• Reverie. A Word or Two on the late farce 
called " High Life below Stairs." Upon Un- 
^ fortunate Merit 88 

The Bee. No. VI.— On Education. On the In- 
stability of Worldly Grandeur." ^ome Account 
of the Academies of Italy . . . .11$ 

The Bee. No. Vll. — OfEloquence. Cujttom and 
Laws compared. Oft the Pride and luxury of 
the Middling Class of^F)9dple. Sabinus and 
Olinda. Of the Opera in England . .138 

1 A 




IM X 



.-Miscellaneous essays 

The Preface 

^ssay No. I. — A Description of Various Clubs 
F<i«ay No. II. — Specimen of a Magazine in Minia- 







ture 



Essay No7 III. — Asem, aty^astejSrtTale ; or, a Vin- 
dication of the Wisdom ol\Providence in the 
Moral Government of the World . 

Essay No. IV.— A. Rerwle sA the Boar*s-Head 
Tavern in Eastcli^p 



Essay No. V.-^Adventures ctf k Strolling Player ; 

Essay No. VI. — Suppos^ to be written by the 
Ordinary of Newgate- . ^ . . . 

Essay No. VII. — On the Superabundance of <* Ad- 
dresses " to Royalty ... . . 

Essay No. VIU,*-To the Printer . . < . 

Essay No . IX.— The Theatre ; or, a Cbttparfson 
bet^. '*! Sentimental and LaughiAg C6medy. 

Essay "Wo. X. — A Register of 3cofeh "SSirriagfes " . 



\ 



V 



^ >*<' 




No. t,— SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1759 



'T'HERE ia Dot, perhaiia, a more whiiiiacally intro- 
'. diamal &gaie in nature, than a man of real ducUon 

jBodesty, who aBsumes an aii ol impudence-^ 
who, while hiR Iicart beatt! with anxiety, studieii 
ease, and afFects good'humour. In this situation, 
however, a periodical writer ofi«p fiftds himself, 
upon his firat attempt to addre»9 the public in 
&rm. All hia power of pleading is dumped 
by Bolicitude, and his cheerfulnesi du«lwd with 
apprcheiuioD. Impreseed witli tlie teiTOm of the 
tribunal before which he is going to appear, his 
natural humour turns to pertoess, and for real 
wit he is obliged to aubBtitute vivacity. His 
firit publication drawi a crtfwd ; they part dis- 
«Bda6ed ; and the author, never more to be 
indulged a favourable heaFing, ia left to con- 
demn tlie indelicacy of his own nddrerw, or 
jJieir want of discernment. 

For ray pwt, as [ was never distinguished for 
addieiM, «Bil have often even Uimdered in making 
jny bow, lUch bodings a» these bad lik« to have 
iMally represmd my amUtion. I was at a loss 



THE BEE 

give the public specious promiseB, 
whether to be merry or sad on I 

[f I should modeEtiy decline 
all mem, it was too probable the haaiy reader 
might have taken me at my word. It, on the 
other hand, like labourers in the Magazine 
trade, I had, with modest impudence, humbly 
pr^umed to promisi; an epitome of all the good 
things that ever were said or written, this might 
have disgusted those readers I most desire to 
please. Had I been merry, I might have been 
-ituu; censured as vatlly h-w ,- and had I been sorrow- 
loiiiuL fxA, I might have been left to mourn in solitude 
and silence : in short, whichever way I turned, 
nothing presented but prospects of terror, despair, 
chandlers' shops, and waste paper. 

In this debate between fear and ambition, my 
publisher, happening to arrive, inierrupied for a 
while my anxiety. Perceiving my cmbarrassrocnt 
about making my first appearance, he instantly 
offered his assistance and advice. ■' You muHt 
know. Sir," says he, " that the republic of letters 
is ai present divided into three classes. One 
writer, for instance, excels at a plan, or a dtle- 
page, another works away at the body of the 
book, and a third is a dab at an index. Thus 
a Magazine is not the result of any single man's 
industry, but goes diraugh as many bonds ae a 
new pin, before it is fit for the public. I fancy, 
Sir," continues he, " I can provide an eminent 
hand, and upon moderate terms, to draw up 
promising plan to smooth up our readers a Tittli 
and pay them as Colonel CharteriB paid his 



THE BEE 5 

seraglioi at the race of three battpence in hand. In 
and three shillings more tn promises." du 

He was proeeeding in his advice, which, how- 

n, I thought pro[)er to decline, by assuring him, 
that as I intended to pursue do iixed method, so 
it was impossible to form any regular plan ; deter- 
mined never to be tedious in order lo be logical, 
wherever pleasure presented, I was resolved to 
follow. Like the Bee, which I had tslcen for 
the title of my paper, I would rove from flower 
to flower, with seeming inattention, but concealed 
choice, expatiate over all the beauties of the 
season, and make my industry my amusenient. 

This reply may also serve as an apology to 
the reader, who expects, before he sits down, a 
bill of his tuture entertainment. It would be 
improper to pall his curiosity by lessening his 
surprise, or anticipate any pleasure I am able U 
procure him, by saying what shall come next. 
Thus much, however, he may be assured of, that 
neither war nor scandal shall make any part of 
iL Homer finely imagines his deity turning 
away with horror from the prospect of a iield of 
battle, and seeking tranquillity among a nation 
noted for peace and simplicity. Happy, could 
any effort of mine, but for a moment, repress 
that savage pleasure some men find in the daily 
accounts of liuman misery ! How gladly would 
1 lead them from scenes of blood and altercation, 
to prospect* of innocence and ease, where every 
breexe breathes health, and every sound is hut 
the echo of tranquillity. 

But whatever the merit of his intentions may 



L 



e THE BBE 

tatto- be, every writer i* now convinced tliac be must 
''Bfioa be chiefly indebted tp good fortune fiDr finding 
readers willing W allow tiim any degree of repu- 
tation. It has been remarked, that aimoBt every 
character which has excited cither attention or 
praise, hae owed part of its luccess to merit, 
and part to an haj^y concurrence of cii'cum. 
stances in ks favour. Hsd Ca;aar or Crorawcll 
exchanged countries, the oae might have been 
a sergeant, and the other an exciseman. So it 
is with wit, wluch generally luccceda more from 
being hBppily addressed, than from its native 
poignmcy. A ien mat, for instanct!, that might 
be reliihed at White's, may Joee all its flavour 
when delivered at the Cat and Bagpipe* in St. 
Giles's. A jest calculated to spread at a gaming 
taUe, may be received -with a jwrfccc neutt^lity 
of face, ehould it Int^en to drop in a markerel 
boat. We have ill seen dunces triumph in iome 
companies, where vnea of real humour were di»- 
regaided by a general combination in fiivour of 
stupidity. To driw the observation as far as 
it will go, should the labours of a writer who 
designs his performances for readers of .1 more 
relincd appeute, fail into the hands of a devourer 
of corapilacioiis, what can he expect but con- 
tempt and conhision ? If his merits tae to be 
determined by judges who efltimate the value of 
a book from its bulk, or its frotuispiece, every 
rival must acquire an easy superiority, who, with 
(lereuasive eloquence, promises four extriardinary 
pages of ietterpresB, or three beautiful prints, 
curiously coloured horn nstore. 



i^Mtfb 



Ill' ' . 

■ igance, 1 

others luve done, yrt the reader may be aisiu-cd, 
be »ha]l ha^e a» much of both as 1 can. He 
shall, K lettt, find me alive while I eUidy his 
for 1 solemnly awure him, I WM 
never yet possessed of the secret at once of writ- 
iog ood tleepiag. 

During the course of llu» paper, tbereforet 
ill iho wic and learning I have are beartily at 
lis service ; which, if, alter bo candid ■ coo- 
(ession, be should, aotwithstuidiDg, Mill find 
iniolerably dull, l«iir, or sad etuf, this, I 
piotesi, is mare tJian I knav. I have a clear 
catiBcieiic«, and am entirely out of the 

Yet 1 would BOt have him, upon the iwusal 
Fa aingle paper, pronounce me incorrigiblK he 
lay try a second, which, ae there is a «ciidied 
dilTerence Jn ettbject and style, may be more 
suited to his taste i if this alio faili, I nust 
rein him to a third, or even to a fourth, in 
of extremity. If he should still continue 
refractory, and lind me dull to the list, I nmst 
inform hm, with Bayei, in the ' Rehearsal,' that 
1 think him a very odd kind of a fellow, and 
desire no more of his acquaintince. 

with such reflections as these I en- 
'deavow to fartify myseli against the future 
conienifH or tteglect of some leaders, and am 
piepirad for their dislike by mutual rMrinina- 
tion. If <uch should impute dealing neither in 
baitleit nor scandal to me as a fault, instead ol 



Intro- acquieflcing in their 
•'■"'^ to tell them a story. 
A traveller, ' ' ' 



, 1 r 



I beg leave 



Italy, happening 
at the foot of the Alps, found himself 
at jast in a country where the inhabitants had 
eich 3 large excrescence depending from the 
chin, like the ]x>ach of a monkey. This 
deformity, as it was endemic, and the people 
liide used to strangers, it had been the custom, 
time immemorial, to look upon as the greatest 
ornament of the liuman visage. Ladies greiv 
toasts Irom the size of their chins, and none 
were regarded as pretty fellows, biit such whoBfr 
faces were broadest at the bottom. — It was 
Sunday ; a country church was at hand, and 
our traveller was willing to perform the duties 
of the day. Upon his first appearance at the 
church door, the eyes of all were naturally 
fixed upon the stranger ; but what was their 
amazement, when they found that he actually 
wanted tliat emblem of beauty, a pursed chin 1 
This was a delect that not a single creature had 
Biifficient gravity (though they were noted for 
being grave) to withstand. Stifled bursts of 
laughter, winks, and whirrs, circulated from 
virage to visage, and the prismatic figure of the 
stranger's face was a fund of infinite gaiety j 
even the parson, equally lemarkaUe for his 
gravity and chin, could hardly refrain joining 
in the good-humour. Our traveller could no 
longer patiently continue an object for deformity 
lo point 31. "Good folks," said he, "I per- 
ceive that 1 am the unfortunate cause of all thia 



rfwitaaik 



good-humour. It is true, I may have faults 
atmadaoce, but I shall neya be induced to 
kon my want of a swelled face among the 



REMiRKs ON OUR Theatres. 

OvK theatres are now opened, and all Gmb 
Street is preparing its advice to the managers, 
We shall undoubtedly hear leanied disquisitions 
on the structure of one actor's legs, and 
another's eyebrows. We shall be told much 
of enunciations, toaen, and attitudes ; and shall 
have our lightest pleasures commented upon by 

■tic dulnesB, We shall, it is feared, be 
told that Garrick is a line actor ; but then as 
a manager, so avaricious ! That Palmer is a 
most promising genius, and Holland likely to 
do' well in a particular cast of character. We 
shall have them giving Shmer instructions to 
amu«e us by rule, and d^loring over the ruins 
of desobted Majesty at Covent Garden. A« 
I love TO be advising too — for advice is easily 

, and bears a show of wisdom and 
superiority — 1 must be permitted to offer a 
few observations upon our theatres and actors, 
without, on ttiis trivial occasion, throwing my 
thoughts into the formality of method. 

Th«e is something in the deportment of 

our players infinicdy more stilF and formal 

than among the actors of other nations. Their 

iction sits uneasy upon them ; foi as the Engliiih 



lo THE BEE 

StAce lue vury little gesture in oi'diitary convei'ia 
Aeboa our English bred actors are obligad to eu^ply 
stage gestures by their imagination alone. A 
French comedian finds proper models of action 
in eTcry company, and in every coffee-houee he 
enters. An Englishman is obliged to take his 
models from the stage itself; he is obliged t 
imitate nature from an imitation of nature. 
know of DO set of men more likely to b 
ira proved by tra»-elling than those of the 
theatricaj proleaiiioa. The inliabitantg of the 
Continent are less reserved than here j they 
may be seen through upon a f«st acquaintance : 
such djc tlie proper models to draw from ; 
they are at once striking, and are found i 
great abundance. 

Thaugb it would be inexcusable in a comedian 
to add BQything of his own to the poet's dialogue, 
yet, as to actiiw, be is entirely at liberty. By 
this he may show the fertility of his genius, the 
poignancy of his Inuneur, and the exactnesa of 
hie judgment ; we scarce see a coxcomb or a 
fool in common life, that has not some peculiar 
oddity in his action. These peculiarities it is 
not in the power of words to represent, and 
depeod solely upon the actor. 1 hey gi™ a> 
relish to the humour of the poet, and make the 
appearance of nature more illusive. The Italiaas, 
it is true, mask some characters, and endenvouii 
to preserve the peculiar humow by the maiLc of 
the mask ; but I have seea Mhers still preserve 
a great fuDd of buraour in tha face wtthaut a 
mask ; one actor, particularly, by a squint 



BEE It 



whick he tbrev iolsr swk diancten q£ low 

Mb, iMiiii i> a losk of iafioilc adUk^c. T^ ,^ ^ _ ^ 



To ffiBCrats what I hjEwr bees spring by tfaue^ 
pli^ I base of lattr goae to aee: Im ^Tbe 
MiKr/ wbick vai plsyei a fev oi^ts ag<> «b 
CofCM Gankn, LoTc^old a^pc8r» ihroufb tbir 
wkake m citc i iH ii in c» <^ cangjgcffateti »raric»; 
aB liir pla^per^s actioiv tfaerefixe^ sbsvld coosptre 
widi tfar pocx 8 ctpiugn^ and ccpfHcot. mbq as ait 
cprtDOK cb pcniy., Tlic Picncb coaMCuatt* wl 
lUt ckaracteTy in the midst of one of bk sio«k 
fioleM paawionii, wbile be apfican ia an HBgettm* 
able rage, feels tbe demon of aTarice suU UDon 
biav aod stoops dovn to pick iq» a pH\ wbich 
he <pik» into tbe flap of bis coat<*pocket witb 
gpeat assidnkf. Two candles are ligbted up fer 
bis wedding ; he flies and turns one of them into 
the socket : it ia» hoveTer, lighted up i^ain ; be 
iben steab to it, and privately crams it into bis 
pocket. The < Mock Doctor ' was lately played 
at tbe other house. Here again the comedian 
bad an opportmuty of heightening the ridicule 
by acdon. Tbe French player sits in a chair 
with a high back, and then begins to show away 
by talking nonsense, which he would have 
thonght Latin by those whom he knows do 
not understand a syllable of the matter. At 
last be grows eothusiasticy enjoys »dbe adnira- 
tion of the conqiaiiy, tosses his legs atid nrma 
about, and, in the midst of his raptures and 



13 THE BEE 

Scenery vociferadon, he and the chair fall back together. 
'^ All tins appears dull enough is the recital, but 
""* the gravity of Cato could not stand it in the 
representation. In Bhort, there is hardly a 
character in comedy to which a player of any 
real humour might not add strokes of vivacity 
that could not fail of applause. But, instead, of 
this, we too often see our fine gentlemen do 
nothing, through a whole part, but strut and 
open their snuff-box ; our pretty fellows sit 
indecently with their legs across, and our clowns 
pull up their breeches. These, if once, or even 
twice, repeated, might do well enough ; but to 
see ihem served up in every scene, argues the 
actor almost as barren as the character he would 

The magnificence of oar theatres is far superior 
to any others in Europe, where plays only are 
acted. The great care our jierformers take in 
painting for a prt, their exactness in all the 
minutii of dress, and other little scenical pro- 
perties, have been taken notice of by Riccoboni, 
a gentleman of Italy, who travelled Europe witli 
so other design but to remark upon tlie stage ; 
but diere are several apparent improprieties still 
continued, or lately come into fashion. As, for 
instance, spreading a carpet punctually at the 
beginning of the death scene, in order to pre- 
vent our actors from s|>oiling their clothes ; this 
immediately apprises us of the tragedy to follow t 
for laying the cloth is not a more sure indication 
of dinner, than laying the carpet of bloody work 
at Drary l.anc. Our little pages, also, with 



THE BEE 13 

unmeaning faces, that bear up the irain of a Bei 
weeping princess, and our awkward brda in iwioisite 
waiting, takeoff much from her dietiess. Mutes 
of every kind divide our attentioo, and IcBsen 
ienflibility ; but here it is entirely ridiculous, 
'e see them eeriously employed in doing 
nothing. If we must have diny-shirted guards 
upon ihe theatreG, they should be taught to keep 
their eyes fised on the actors, and not roll them 
round upon the audience, as if they were ogling 
the boxes. 

Beauty, methinka, eeems a requisite qualifica- 
tion in an actreea. This seems scrupulously 
observed elsewhere, and, for my part, I could 
wish to see it observed at home. I can never 
eive 3 hero dying for love of a lady totally 
destitute of beauty. I must think the part un- 
natural ; for I cannot bear to hear him call that 
^ce angelic, when even paint cannot hide its 
wrinkles. 1 must condemn him of stupidity j 
and the person whom I can accuse for want of 
taste, will seldom become the object of my alFec- 
tione or admiration. But if this be a defect, 
what must be the entire perversion of scenictil 
decorum, when, for instance, we see an actress 
that might act the Wapping Landlady without a 
bolster, pining in the character of Jane Shore, 
and, while uirwieldy with fat, endeavouring to 
convince the audience that she is dying with 
hunger! 

For the future, then, 1 could wish that the 
parts of the young or beautiful were given to 
performers of suitable Sgures ; for I must own, 



14 THE BEE 

It I couU rather sec the stage fillet) with agreeable 
° objecie, though they might sometimee bimgle a 
Ktde, than see it crowded with witliered or mis- 
shapen figures, be their emphasis, as I think it 
i» flailed, ever so proper. The first may hare 
riM awkward appearance of new-raised troops ; 
bot b viewing die last, I cannot avoid the 
moitificatbn of fancying myself placed m a 
htMpiUl of mvalidt. 

The Stokv av Alcakdhh and SEPTiMtp^ 



Tr/itn/alti/ /rem n Byxt, 



e Historian. 



ArttENi, long after tbe decline of the' Roman 
eUpife, Btill contimied the seat of learmng, polite, 
iiess, and wisdom, Theodoric, tbe Ostrogoth, 
repaired the schools which barbarity was sutfer- 
ing to fall into decay, and continued those 
peoBions to men of learning which avoricioub 
governor* had monopolieed. 

In this city, and about this period, Alcaodcr 
and iieptimius were follow-students together. 
The one the most eubule reasoner of all the 
Liyccura ; the other the most eloquent speaker 
in the Academic ^ove. Mutual admiratioD 
soon begot a friendship. Their fortunes were 
nearly e()ual, and they were nattres of the two 
most celebrated cities in the wc«'ld ; for Alcander 
was of Athens, Septimius came from Rome. 

In thii atate of harmony they lived for some 
time together, when Alcander, after pasting the 
fim part of his youth in tbe indolence of philo. 



THE BEE 

sophy, thought at length of rouriag 

buBy trorld ; and, as a stro prerious „ , 

plnced his afTectionR on H^atia, a lady of 
exquisTie beauty. Thf day of their intended 
nuptiaU was lixed ; the previous ceremonies 
were performed t and nothing now remained 
but her being conducted io triumph to liie 
apartment of the intended bridegroom. 

Alcandef't exultation in his own happiness, 
or being unable to enjoy any satiefaciion with- 
out making his friend Septimins a partner, 
prevailed upon him t<) intioducc Hypaiia to 
his fel low -student ! which he did with all the 
gaiety of a mao who found himself equally 
happy in friendship and lore. But this was 
an interview fatal to the future peace of both i 
for Septimius no tiooner saw her, but he was 
smitten with an involuntary passion ; and though 
he used every effort to suppress desires at once 
so imprudent and unjust, the emotions of his 
niind in a short limc became so strong, that 
they brought on a frvCT, which the physicians 
judged incurable. 

During this illness, Alcander w;itched him 
with all the anxiety of fondness, and brought 
his mistress to join in those amiable offices ot 
friendship. The sagacity of the physicians, by 
these means, soon discovered that the cause of 
theil' patient's disorder was love ; and Alcander, 
being apprised of their discovery, m kvgth *x- 
tortnt a confession from the relnctam dying 
loter. 

It would but delay the narrative to describe 



SeptinJ 



J 



i8 THE BEE 

-Alcaoder so much wretchedness ; and sleeping in 
sod gtreeta might be attended with interruption 
danger : in short, he was obliged to take up 
bis lodging in one of the tombs without the city^ 
the usual retreat of guilt, poverty, and de«pair< 
In this mansion of horror, laying his head upoif 
an inverted urn, he forgot his miseries for a whiln 
in sleep; and found, on his lltnty couch, more 
ease than beds of down can supply to tlie guilty^ 
As he continued here, about midnight, twa 
robb«r» came to make this their retreat ; but 
happening to disagree about the division of tbeis 
plunder, one of them stabbed the other to 
the heari, and left him weltering in blood at 
the entrance. In these circumstances he wat 
found next morning dead at the moutli of th^ 
vault. This naturally induced a further inquiry ) 
an alarm was sjiread ) the cave was examined g 
and Alcander being found wae immediaiely 
apprehended and accused of robbery and murder. 
The circumstances against bim were strong, and 
the wretchedness of his appearance confirmed 
suspicion. Misfortune and lie were now so long 
acijuainted that he at last became regardless of 
life. He detested a world whei'e he had found 
only ingratitude, falsehood, and cruelty { he wai 
determined to make no defence ; and thus, lower 
ing with resolution, he wae dragged, bound witb 
cords, befoce the tribunal of Septimius. As the 
proofs were powtive against him, and he offered 
Dothing in liis owo vindication,, the judge waa 
proceeding to doom him to a most cruel and 
ignominious death, when the attention of lite 



THE BEB 19 

multitude was Eoon divided by another object. 
The robber who had been really guilty, was 
apprehended aelling his plunder, and, struck 
with a paaic, had confessed his crime. He was 
brought boufid to the same tribunal, and acquitted 
every other person of any partnership in bis guilt. 
AJeander's innocence, therefore, appeared, but 
the Bullen rashncs* of his conduct rtmained a 
wonder to tlie surrounding multitude ; but their 
astonishment was still further increased when 
they saw theil judge start Irom his tribunal to 
embrace the supposed criminal : Sepumius recol- 
lected his frieiid and former benefactor^ and 
hung upon his neck with tears of pity and of joy. 
Need the sequel be related ? Alcander was 
ucijuitted ; shared the friendship and honours 
of the principal citizens of Rome ; lived after- 
wards in happiness and cast ; and left it to be 
engraved on his tomb, that, — No circum(itant;es 
are so desperate which Providence may not 
reliere. 



A LtTTEll FROM A THAVELLElt. 

(The sequel of this correspondence to be con- 
tinued occasionally. I shall alter nothing either 
in tiie Myle or substance of these letters, and the 
reader may depend on their being genuine.) 

Ckacow, Jiuguii 1, 1758, 

M" i>E*K Winirrryou see,, by the dale of 
lay letisr, that 1 am arrived in Poland. Vhen 



I 



i 



THE BEE 

fA Philo- will my wanderings be at an end ? When will 
aophic niy reetless disposition give me leave to enjoy 
bfnd ^''^ presPfif hour ? When at LyonB, I thought 
idl happiness lay beyond the Alps ; when in 
Italy, I found myself sal) in w^nt of Kome- 
thing, and expected to leave solicitude behind 
me by going into Roumelia ; and now you 
me turning back, still expecting ease everywhere 
but where I am. It is now seven years since 
saw the face of a single creature who cared 
farthing whether I was dead or alive. Secluded 
from all the comforts of confidence, friendehipf 

r Kociety, I feel the solitude of a hermit, but 

Dt his ease . 
' ' The Prince of * * ♦ has taken me in his 
train, so that I am in no danger of starving for 
this bout. The Prince's governor is a rude 
ignorant pedant, and his tutor a battered rake ; 
thus, between two such characters, you may 
imagine he is finely instructed. I made some 
attempts to display all the little knowledge I 
had acquired by reading or observation ; but I 
find myself regarded as an ignorant intruder. 
The truth is, I shall never be able to acquire 
fl power of expressing myself with ease in any 
language but my own ; and, out of my own 
country, the highest character I can ever 
acquire, is that of being a philosophic vaga- 

When I consider, myself in the country which 
was once so formidable in war, and spread terror 
and desolation over the whole Roman empire, I 
can hardly account for the present wretchedness 



THE BEE 

and pUBilliiimity of ju inhabitants : a prey to P< 
every invider [ their cities plundered without ,an '"' 
eoemy ; their iiiiigistratea Beekiog redreoi by com- 
plaints,' and not by vigoBT. Everything conepiKS 
to raise my conipassion for their miaeriee, Were 
Dot my thoughts too busily engaged by my own. 
The whole kingdom is in sii mge disorder : wliert 
our equipage, which consists oF the Pnnee and 
thirteen attendants, had arrived at GOme towns, 
there were no conTcniences to be found, and we 
were obliged to have girit to conduct us to the 
next. I have seen a woman travel thus on horse- 
back before us for thirty miles, and think herself 
highly paid, and make twenty reverences, upon 
receiving, with ecstasy, about twopence for her 
trouble. In general, we were better served by 
the women than the men, on those occasions. 
The men seemed directed by a low sordid 
interest alone ; they seemed mere machines, and 
all their thoughts were employed in the care ot 
their horses. If we gently desired them to make 
more speed, they took not the least notice ; kind 
language waa what they had by no means been 
used to. It was proper to speak to them in the 
tones of anger, and sometimes it was even neces- 
sary (0 use blows, to excite them lo their duty- 
How different these from the common people ot 
England, whom a blow might' induce to return 
the affront sevenfold. These poor people, how- 
ever, firom being brought up to vile usage, lose 
all the respect which they should have for them- 
■eUet. They have contracted a habit of regard- 
ing constraint as the great lule of their dux>{.- 



uaeryra 



91 THE BEE 

r MKtipeN When they were treated with mildness, they 
*•"' ne longer continued to perceive a superiority. 
They fancied tliemselves our equals, and 
rinuance of our humanity might probably have 
rendered them insolent ; but the imperious tone-, 
menaces, and blows, at once changed their 
sensations and their ideas ; their ears and their 
shoulders taught their souls to shriiik back into 
servicude, from which they had for m 
fancied themeehes disengaged. 

The enthusiasm of liberty an Englisfai 
feels is never so strong, as when preeentcd by 
such prospects as these. I must own, in all my 
indigence, it is one of my comforts, (perhaps, 
indeed, it is my only loast,) that I am of that 
happy country ; though I acorn lo starve there ; 
though I do not choose to lead a life of 
wretched dependence, or be an object for my 
former acquaintance to point at. While you 
enjoy all the ease and elegance of prudence 
and virtue, your old friend wanders over i' 
world, without a single anchor lo hold by, 
a friend, except you, to confide in. 

Yours, 5tc. 



A Short Account or the Late 

Mr. MAtTFERTUlS. 

Mr. MAin-iKTUis, lately deceased, was the 
first to whom the English philosophers owed 
their being particularly admired by the rest of 
£!urope. The romantic system of Des Cartes 



THE BEE aj 

t adapted to the Caste of the Buperticiat and 
the iodolent i the foreign uBiverBities had em- **^ 
braced it with ardour, and such are seldom con- 
vinced ofiheir errors till all others give up Bach 
false opiaionH as untenable. The philoiophy 
of Newton and the metaphysics of Locke 
appeared ; but, like all new truths, they were 
ince received with opposition and con- 
tempt. The English, it is true, studied, under- 
stood, and, conseijiientiy, admired them ; it was 
very different on the Continent. Fontencllc, 
who seemed to preside over the republic of 
letters, unwilling to acknowledge thai all bia 
Jife had been spent in erroDeoua phitoBOphjr, 
joined in the universal disapprobation, and 
English philosophers seemed entirely 
unknown. 

Maupertuis, however, made them his study ; 
■he thought be might oppose die physics of his 
country, and yet still be a good diiien ; he de- 
fended our countrymen, wrote in their favour, 
and, at Inst, as he had truth on bia side, carried 
ause. Almost all the learning of tl>e English, 
till very btely, was conveyed in the language of 
" ice. The writings of Maupertuis Spread 
the reputation of his master, Newton, and, by 
a happy fortune, have united his fame with 
that of our human prodigy. 

The £rst of his performances, openly in 
rindication of the Newtonian system, is hjs 
realise, entitled, * Sur la figure des Asiies,' if 
'. remember right ; a work .11 once expressive 
of a deep geometrical knowledge, and the most 



H MaupCf^ h^ppy manaer of delivering abstruse Gcience with 
H tuia ease. This met with violent opposition from a 

I people, though fond of novelty in everything 

I else, yet, however, in matte m of Ecience, 

W attached to ancient opinioofi with bigotry. As 

the old and obstinate fell away, the youth of 
France embraced the new opinions, and now 
seem more eager to defend Newton than even 
his countrymen. 

The oddity of character which great men 
are sometimes remarkable for, Maupertuis was 
not entirely free from. . , . Though born 
to a large fortune, when employed in mathe- 
matical inqmries, ke disregarded his person to 
such a degree, and loved retirement so much, 
that he has been niore than once put on the list 
of modest beggars by the curates of Paris, when 
he retired to some private quarter of the town, 
in order to enjoy hie meditations without inter- 
ruption. The character given of him by one 
of Voltaire's antagonists, if it can be depended 
upon, h much to his honour. ■* You," eays 
this writer to Mr. Voltaire, " you were enter- 
tained by the King of Prussia as a buffoon, but 
Maupertuis as a philosopher." It is certain, 
that the preference which this royal scholar 
gave to Maupertuis was the cause of Voltaire's 
disagreement with him. Voltaire could not 
bear U> sec a man, whose talents he had no 
great opinion of, preferred before him as presi- 
dent of the Royal Academy. His ' Micro- 
megas ' was designed lo ridicule Maupertuis ; 
and, prohably, it has brought more disgrace on 



THE BEE 



THE BEE 



25 



the author than the subject. Whatever absur- Mauper- 
dities men of letters have indulged, and how **"* 
fantastical soever the modes of science have 
been, their anger is still more subject to ridi- 
cule. 



. \f . 



. \v 



! (• 



'-(! 



T 



H*! 






;■ '•'»: } .V ': 



THE BEE 



No. II.— SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1759 



On Dress 

On Dress T^ OR EIGNE RS observe, that there are no 

ladies in the world more beautiful, or 
more ill-dressed, than those of England. Our 
countrywomen have been compared to those 
pictures, where the face is the work of a 
Raphael, but the draperies thrown out by some 
empty pretender, destitute of taste, and unac- 
quainted with design. 

If I were a poet, I might observe, on this 

occasion, that so much beauty set off with all 

the advantages of dress, would be too powerful 

^ an antagonist for the opposite sex; and, there- 

i fore, it was wisely ordered that our ladies should 

I want taste, lest their admirers should entirely 

want reason. 

But to confess a truth, I do not find they 
have a greater aversion to fine clothes than the 
women of any other country whatsoever. I 
can't fancy that a shop-keeper's wife in Cheap- 
side has a greater tenderness for the fortune of 

her husband than a citizen's wife in Paris; or, 
20 



THE BEE IT 

that Miss in a boarding-school is more an econo- 

miet in dress than Mademoiselle in a nunnery. 

Although Paris may be accounted tlie soil in 
which almost every faihion takes its riae, its in- 
fluence is never so general there as with us. 
They study there the happy method of uniting 
grace and fashion, and never excuse a woman 
for being awkwardly dressed, hy saying her 
clothes are in the mode. A French woman 
is a perfect architea in dress ; she rwvei', with 
Gothic ignorance, mixes ihe orders ; she never 
■ricks out a stguabby Doric shape with Corinthian 
finery ; or, to speak without metaphor, she con- 
forms to a general fashion only when it happens 
not to be repugoaot to private beauty. 

The English ladiM, on the contrary, seem to 
have no other standard of grace hot the run ot 
the town. If fashion giveti the word, every dis- 
tinction of beauty, complexion, or stature, ceases. 
Sweeping trains, Prussian bonncDs, and trollopces, 
as like each other as if cut from the same piece, 
level all to one standard. The Mall, the gardens, 
and play-houses, are filled with ladies in uniform ; 
and their whole appearance shows as liltle variety 
or taste, as if their clothes were bespoke by the 
colonel of a marching regiment, or fancied by the 
artist who dresses the three battalions of guards. 

But not only the ladies of every shape and 
complexion, but of every age too, are possessed 
of this unaccountable p.iBsion levelling all disrinc- 
tion in dress. The lady of no qiality travels fast 
behind thf lady of some quality, and a woman of 
sixty is n« gaudy us her granddaughter. A friend 



JO THE BEE 

The eyes with a s|>it«ful air on her bosom, ' I could 
]Compuj heartiJy wish, Madam,' replied I, ' that for your 

"park ^^^^ "'^ '""'^ *^* *""' '"'° ' tippet.' 

" As my cousin, by tliis time, was grown 
heartily ashamed of her gentleman- usher, and as 
I was never very fond of any kinct of exhibition 
myeelf, it wae mutually agreed to retire for a 
while to one of the seats, and from that retreat 
remark on others as freely as they had remarked 

" When seated, we continued silent for some 
time, employed in very diiTcrent speculations. 
I regarded the whole company, now passing in 
review before me, as drawn out merely for tny 
amusemem. For my entertainment the beauty 
had all that morniDg been improving her charnw ; 
the beau had put on lace, and the young doctor 
a big wig, merely to please me. But quite 
different were the ttentiments of cousin Hannah : 
she regarded every well-dressed woman as a 
victorious rival, hated every face that seemed 
dressed in good'humour, oi' wore the appear- 
ance of greater hsppincss than her own. I per- 
ceived her uneasiness, and attempted to lessen it, 
by observing that th<re was no company in the 
Park to-<lay. To tliis she readily atsented ; 
'and yet,' aays she, 'it is full enough of scrubs 
of one kind or another.' My smiling at this 
iabfervatton gave her spirits to pursue the bent of 
ber inclination, and now she beg.tn to exhibit 
her skill in secret history, as she found me 
i^tpotiod to ]ietea- * Ubservi),' iiaye she to me, 
f.that old womm in tawdry hilk, and dreswd 



THE BBE 31 



Out beyond the fashion. That is Miss Biddy Uiss 
Evergreen. Miss Biddy, it seems, has raoney ; Extr- 
as she considers that money was never so ^^5,_ 
. I J 1 8nd Mrs 

;e as it is now, she seems fetolved to keep Roimd- 
whai slie has to herself. She is ugly enough, About 
you see ; yet, I assure you, she has refused several 
olfern to my own knowledge within this twelve- 
month. Let me see, three gentlemen from 
Ireland who study the iaw ; two waiting 
captains ; a doctor ; and a Scotch preacher, who 
had liked to have carried lier off. All her time 
is passed between sickness and tt^ery. Thus, 
she spendti die whole week in a close chamber, 
with no othef company but her monkey, her 
apothecary, and cat ; and comes dressed out to 
tlie Park every Sunday, to show hei airs, to get 

I lovers, to catch a new cold, and to loitke 

r work for the doctor. 

' ' There goes Mrs Roundabout, — 1 mean the 
fat lady in the lutestring trollopee. Between you 
and 1, she is but a cuder's wife. See how she's 
dressed, m fme as hands and pins can nuke lier, 
while hcf two marriageable daughters, like 
banters, in siUf gowns, are now taking sixpenay 
,worili of tea at the White Conduit tiouac 
Odiou« ]iu&8 1 bow she waddles along, with a 
■ain two yards behind her I She pute me 
1 mind of my Lord Bantam's Indian sheep, 
which are obliged to have their monstrous tails 
trundled along in a go-cait. For all her. ailS, 
it goes to her husband's heart to see four yards 
of good lutestring wearing against the ground, 
like one of his knives on a grindstone. To 



1 



Ja THE BEE 

Mis9 speak my mind, cousin Jeffrey, I never iiked 
tlazzard those tails ; for suppose a young fellow should 
be mde, and the lady should offer to step back 
in the fright, instead of retiring, she treads upon 
'' her train, and tails fairly on her back ; and then, 
you know, cousin, — -her clothes may be spoiled. 

"•Ah! Mifla Mazzard! I knew we should 
not miss her in the Park ; she in the monstrous 
Prussian bonnet. Miss, though so very fine, was 
bred a milliner ; and might have had home 
custom if she had minded her business, but 
the girl was fond of finery, and instead of dress- 
ing her customers, laid out all her goods in 
adorning herself. Every new gown she put on 
impaired her credit ; she still, however, went 
on improving her appearance, and lessening her 
little fortune, and is now, you see, become a belle 
and a bankrupL' 

*' My cousin was proceeding in her remarks, 
which were interrupted by the approach of the 
very lady she had been so freely describing ; 
Miss had perceived her at a distance, and 
approached to salute her, I found, by the 
warmth of the two ladies' protestations, that 
they had been long intimate esteemed friends 
and acquaintance. Both were so pleased at 
this happy rencounter, that they were resolved 
not (0 part for the day. So we all crossed 
the Park together, and I saw them into a hack- 
ney coach at St. James's." 




s Rel4Tive to Chakle 

Not Commonly Kkown. 



Stockholm. 

Sir, — I cannot reriat your solicitationa, though 
it is possible I shall be unable to saDsfy your 
curiosity. The polite of every country seem to 
have but ODE character. A gentleman of 
Sweden differs but little, except in triHes, from 
one of any other country. It is among the 
vulgar wc are to lind those distinctions which 
characterize a people, and from them it is that 
I take my picture of the Swedes. 

Though the Swedes, in general, appear to 
languisli under oppression, which often renders 
others wicked, or of malignant dispositions, it 
has not, however, the same influence upon 
them, as they are faithful, civil, and incapable 
of atrocious crimes. Would you believe that 
in Sweden highway robberies are not so much 
as heard of^ For my part, I have not in the 
whole country seen a gibbet or a gallows. They 
pay an infinite respect to their ecclesiasiJcs, 
whom they suppose to be the privy-councillora 
of Providence ; who, on their part, turn this 
credulity lo their own advantage, and manage 
their parishioners as tliey please. In general, 
however, they seldom abuse their sovereign 
aulhoj'ily. Hearkened to as oracles, regarded 
as the dispensers of eternal rewards and punish- 
ments, they readily influence their hearers Joto 



34 THE BEE 

Charles justice, and make them piacticai philosopher. 
f '■ without the paiiiB of study. 

As tu their persons, they are perfectly well 
made, and the men particularly have a very 
engaging air. The greatest part of the hoys 
which I taw in the country liad very white 
hair. They were ae beautiful &» Cupids, niad 
there was something open and entirely happy iu 
their little chubby faces. The girls, on the 
contrary, have neither such fair nor such e\ 
complexions, and tlieir features are much I 
delicite, which is a circumstance diiFereni from* 
tiat of almost every other country. Beside* 
this, it is observed, that ilie women are generally 
afflicted with the itch, for which Scania is par- 
ticularly remarkable. I had an instance of this 
in one of the ions on the road. The hostess 
was one of the most beautiful women I have 
ever seen ; she had so line a complexion, that I 
could not avoid admiring it. But what was my 
surprise, when she opened her bosom in order to 
suckle her child, to ]ierceive that seat of delight 
all covered with this disagreeable distemper. 
The careless manner in which she exposed to 
our eyes so disgusting an object, sufficiently 
testifies that they regard it as no very extra* 
ordinary malady, and seem to take no paiiw ta 
conceal it. Such are the remarks, which prcM 
tubly you may thick trilling enough, I htrft 
made in my Journey to Stockholm ; which, n 
take it altogedier, is a large, beautiful, and eved 
populous city. ■ 

The arsenal appears to me one of its greatefl 



THE BEE 35 

in an handBODie, epacious buiiillog, Chmrl 
hut, liowever, illy stored with the implements of ^^'• 
war. To recompense ibis defect, they ha^e 
almost filled it with trophies, and other marks of 
tlieir turmer military glory. 1 saw there Bevei'al 
chambers 6Iled witli UaniBb, Saxon, Polish, and 
Russian standards. There was at least enough 
to «ul^ce half-a-dozen armies ; but new standards 
are more easily made than new armies can be 
enlisted. I saw, beiudes, some very rich fiirni- 
ture, and some of the crown jewels, of great 
value ; but what principally engaged my attention, 
and touched me with passing melancholy, were 
the bloody, yet precious, spoils of the two greatest 
heroes the Nordi ever produced. What I mean 
are the clothes in which the great Gustavus 
Adolphas, and the intrepid Charles XII. died, 
by a fate not unusual to kings. The lirst, if I 
remember, is a sort of a buif waistcoat, made 
antique fashion, very plain, and without the least 
ornaments ; the second, which was even more 
remarkable, consisted only of a coarse blue cloth 
coat, a large hat of less value, a shirt of coarse 
linen, large boots, and bufl' gloves made to cover 
a great pan of the arm. His saddle, his pistoU, 
and hia aword, have nothing in ttiem remarkable ; 
the meanest soldier was in this respect no way 
inferior lo his gallant monarch. 1 shall use this 
opportunity to give you some particulars of the 
life of a man already w well known, which I had 
lirom persons who knew him when a child, and 
who now, by -i fate not unusual to courtiers, 
Spend a life of poverty and retirement, and talk 



] 



J6 THE BEE 

Charles over in rajitures all the aciiuns of their old vic- 
'*'^" torious king, companion, and master. 

Courage and inflexible constancy formed the 
baEiH of this monarch's character. In hit 
tenderest years he gave inetances of both. 
When he was yet scarce seven years old, being 
at dinner with the queen his mother, intending 
to give a bit of bread to a great dog he WM 
fond of, this hungry animal snapped too greedily 
at the morsel, and bit his liand in a terrible 
manner. The wound bled copiously, but our 
young hero, without offering to cry, or taking 
the least notice of his misfortune, endeavoured 
to conceal what had happened, lest bis dog 
should be la-ought into trouble, and wrapped 
his bloody hand in the napkin. The queen, 
perceiving that he did not eat, asked him the 
reason. He contented himself with replying, 
that he thanked her, he was not hungry. They 
thought he was taken ill, and so repeated their 
solicitations: but all was in vain, though the 
poor child was already grown pale with the loss 
of blood. An officer who attended at table at 
last perceived it ; for Charles would sooner have 
died than betrayed his dog, who, he knew, in- 
tended no injury. 

At another time, when in the small-pox, and 
his case appeared dangerous, he grew one day 
very uneasy in his bed, and a gentleman who 
vatcbed him, desirous of covering him up close, 
received from the patient a violent box on his 
eu. Some hours after, observing the prince 
more calm, he entreated to know how he had 



W THE BEE 37 1 

H incurred his dinplcasurc, or what he had done Chvl^l 
I to have merited a blow. " A blow i " replied ^^- ^ 
H Charles, " I don't remember aaything of it ; I I 

W remember, indeed, that I thought myself in the V 

F battle of Arbela, fighting for Dariuh, where I 1 

gave Alexander a blow which brought him to 
I the ground." 

What great eft'ecU might not these two quali- 
ties of courage and constancy have produced, 
had they at first received a just direction- 
Charles, with proper instructions, thus naturally 
disposed, would have been the delight and the 
glory of his age. Happy those princes, who 
are educated by men who are at once virtuouu 
and wise, and have been for «ome time in the 
school of affliction; who weigh happiness against 
glory, and teach their royal pupiU the real value 
of feme i who are ever showing the superior 
dignity of man to that of royalty — that a peasant 
who does his duty ie a nobler character than a 
king of even middling reputation 1 Happy, 1 
Bay, were princes, could such men be found to 
instruct them ; but those to whom such an 
education ia generally intrusted, are men who 
thrmielvca have ncied in a sphere too high to 
know mankind. Puffed up themselves with idea* 
of falae grandeur, and measuring merit by advcn- 
titioB* circumstances ol greacneas, ihey generally 
communicate tliose fatal prejudices to their pupils, 
confirm their pride by adulation, or increase 
their ignorance by teaching tliem to despise that 
wisdom which is found among the poor. 

But not to moralize when 1 only intend h 



38 THE BEE 

Charles story, — -what is reiatcd of the jt 
'^•*- [irince is no less astonishing. He 

been on horseliack for four-and-twenty hours 
auccessively, aod thus traversed the greatest part 
of his kioRdom, At last, none of liis officer! 
were found capable of following him ; he thus 
consequently rode the greatest part of these 
journeys quite alone, without taking a 
repose, and witliout any other subsist 
bit of bread. In one of these rapid 
underwent on adrenture singular enough. Riding 
tljus post one day, all alone, he had the mis- 
fortune to have hie horse fall dead under him. 
This might hace embarrasEcd an ordinary man, 
but it gave Charles no sort of uneasiness. Sure 
of finding another horse, but not equally 
meeting with a good saddle and pistols, h 
girdo his horse, clapi the whole equipage on hia 
own back, and, thiis accoutred, marches on to 
the next inn, which by good fortune was not far 
off. Entering the stable, he here found a horse 
entirely to his mind ; so, without further cere- 
mony, he clapped on his saddle and housing 
with great composure, and was jusi going 
mount, when the gentleman who owned llio 
horse was apprized of a stranger's going to steal 
his property out of the stable. Upon asking the 
king, whom he had never seen, bluntly, how ho 
presumed to meddle with his horse, Charles 
coolly replied, squeezing in his lips, which wait 
hie usual custom, that he took the horse because 
wanted one ; " for yon see," continued he, 
" if I have none, I shall be obliged to carry the 



1 
I 



THE BEE 39 

tiaddle myself." This answer did not seem at H^[hJ 
all satisfactory to the gentleman, who instantly "?** "■ 
drew his sword. In this the king was not much Jjit^n'" 
behindhand with hini, and to it they were going, 
when the guards by this time came up, and 
testified that surprise which was natural to see 
arms in the hand of a subject against his king- 
Imagine whether the genfleman was less sur- 
prised than they at his unpremeditated dis- 
obedience. His astonishment, however, was 
soon dissipated by the king, who, taking him by 
the hand, assured him he was a brave fellow, 
and himself would take care he should be pro- 
vided for. This promise was afterwards fulfilled, 
and I have been assured tlie king made him a 

I am. Sir; 8tC.' " 

HAPPfNESs, [N A GsrA-j- MeasiJkb;''''' "' 

Dependent on Constitutjon. 

Wken I reflect OD the unamfMtious retirement 
in which I pasned the earlier part of my lii« in 
the country, I cannot avoid feeling some pain 
in thinking that those iiappy days are never to 
fenirn. In that retreat ail nature seemed capable 
of aflbrding pleasure : I then made no refine- 
ments on happiness, but could be pleased with 
the most awkward ctToris of rustic mirth ; 
thought cross-purposes the highest «ren.'h of 
human wit; and questions and commnndfe the 
most rutioiui! way of B]>cnding the evening. 
Happy could »o charming an illusion ndll cod- 



40 THE BEE 

A men; iinue ! 1 lind tliat age and knowledge only 
"■▼e contribute to sour our dispositions. My present 
enjoyments may be more refined, but they are 
infinitely lese pleasing. The pleasure the best 
actor gives can no way compare to that I have 
received from a country wag who imitated 
quaker's sermon. The miwic of the fineat singer 
is dissonance !o what I felt when our old dairy- 
maid Bung me into tears with 'Johnny Arnir 
girong'e Last Good Night,' or the cruelty of 
'Barbara Allen.' 

Writers of every age have endeavoured 
show that pleasure ia io UB, and not in the objects 
offered for our aniusemeni. li' the sou! be hap- 
pily disposed, every thing becomes capable of 
affording entertainment; and distress will all 
want a name. Every occurrence passes in re' 
like the figures of a procession : some may be 
awkward, others ill dressed ; hut none but a fool 
is for this enraged with the master of the c 

1 reniemt>er to have once seen a slave 
fortification in Flanders, who appeared no way 
touched with his situation. He was maimed, 
deformed, and chained ; obliged to toil from the 
appearance of day tUI nightfall, and conden 
to this for life ; yet with all dieae circumsta 
of apparent wretchedness, he sung, would have 
danced, but that he wanted a leg, and appeared 
tlie merriest, happieKt man of all the garrison. 
What a practical philonopher waa here ! a happy 
constitution supplied philosophy, and though sc 
ingly destitute of wisdom, he was really \ 



THE BEE 4> 

No reading or study had contributed to disen- C«rdi_ 
chant the fairy-land arouncl him. Every thing ^ K** 
fiirnifhcd him with an opportunity of mirth ; 
and though some thought him, from his inwnai- 
bilily, a fool, he was such an idiot as philosophers 
should wish to imitate ; for all philosophy is 
only forcing tlie trade of happincK, when nature 
eems to deny the meanii. 

They who, like our elave, can place tliem- 
elves on that side of the world in which every- 
thing appears in a pleasing light, will tind Eome- 
thing in every occurrence to escilc their good 
humour. The moGt calamicoue events, either to 
themselves or others, can bring do new alHictioo : 
tile whole world is to them a theatre, on which 
comedies only are acted. All the bustle of 
heroism, or the rants of ambition, serve only to 
heighten the absurdity of the scene, and make 
the humour more poignant. They feel, in short, 
as little anguish at their own distress, or the 
complaints of others, a» die undertaker, though 
dressed in black, feels sorrow at a funeral. 

Of all the men I ever read of, the famous 
Cardinal de Ret£ possessed this happiness of 
temper in the highest degree. As he was a mun 
of gulUatry, and despised all that wore the 
pedantic appearance of philosophy, wherever 
pleanure was to be nold, he was generally fore- 
most to raise the auction. Being an universal 
admirer of the fair sex, when he found one lady 
cruel, he gtncially fell in love with anoclier, 
from whom he exjiected a moie favourable 
reception : if she too rejected his addresses, he 



42 THE BEE 

Cardinal never tliought of retiring into deserts, or pining 
de Rctz in hopeless distress. He persuaded himself, 
that instead of loving the lady, he only fancied 
he had loved her, and so all was well agai 
When fortune wore her angriest look, and he 
last fell into the power of his most deadly enemyy 
Cardinal Maxarin, ( being confined a close prisoner 
in die Castle of Valenciennes), he never attempted 
to support his distress by wisdom or philosophy, 
for he pretended to neither. He only laughed 
at himself and his persecutor, and seemed inlin' 
Itely pleated at his new situation. In this manaioi 
of distress, though secluded from his frieodg, 
though denied all the amusements, and even the 
conveniences of life, he still retained his good 
humour i laughed at all the little spite of his 
enemies ; and c;trried the jest so far as to be 
revenged, by writing the life of his gaoler. 

All that the wisdom of the proud can teaCh, la 
lo' be stubborn or sullen under misfortunes. Tli 
Cardinal's example will instruct ua to be merr 
in circumstances of the highest affliction. ] 
matters not whetlier our good humour be con 
strued by others into insensibility, or even 
idiotism ; it is happiness to ourselves, and none 
but a fool would measure his ftattsfaction by 
what the world thinks of it : for my own part 
I never pass by one of our prisons for debt, that 
1 do not envy chat felicity which is still going 
lorward among those people, who forget tha 
cares of the world by being shut out from 
amUiAon. 

The happiest silly fellow 1 ever knew, was 



THE BEE 43 

the number of those good-natornl creatures that 'Poor 
are said to do no harm to »nT but tbenuelres. Dwk' 
Wfaenei'er he fell into any miiery, he luually 
called it " seeing liic," If his brad was broke 
by a cbairnun, or hi* pocket picked bv a sharper, 
he comforted himself by imitating the Hibemiao 
dialect of the one, or the more fashionable caat 
of the olbel. Nothing came amiu to him. His 
inattenbon to money matters had incensed his 
father to such a degree, that ail the intet- 
cetsion of friends in his favour was fruitless, 
The old geotlemain was on hii death-bed. The 
whole family, and Dick among the number, 
gathered around bim. " I leaye my second son, 
Andrew," said the expiring miser, " my whole 
estate, and deare him to be frugal." Andrew, 
in a sorrowful tone, as is usual on these occBsions, 
prayed heaven to prolong his life and health to 
enjoy it himself. — " I recommend Simon, my 
third son, to the care of his elder brotlior, an<t 
leave him beside four thousand pounds.'*—" Ah, 
father! " cried Simon, (in great alfiiction to be 
sure,) "may heaven give you life and health W 
Mjoy it yourself!" At last, turning to poor 
Dick, ■* As for you, you have always been a 
sad dog — you'll never come to good i you'll 
never be rich ; I'll leave you a shilling to buy an 
T."-— "Ah, father!" crie« Dick, without 
*ny emotion, " may heaven give you life and 
bwlth (o en]oy it yourself! " This was all the 
ti'ouble the loss of fortune gave this thoughllemr, 
iprudtiit creature. However, the tenderness t)f 
BO unclcrecompenscdihe neglect of fl fathcrj »nd 



] 



44 THE BEE 

Mile, my friend is now not only exceaBiTely good- 
Clairon humoured, but competently rich. 

Yes, let the world cry-out at a bankrupt who 
appears at a ball ; at an author who laughs at the 
public which pronounces him a dunce ; at a 
general who smiles at the reproach of the vulgar ; 
or die lady who keeps her good humour in spite 
of scandal ; but such ia the wisest behaviour that 
any of us can possibly assume ; ii is certainly 
a better way to opjiose calamity by dissipation, 
than to take up the arms of reason or resolutton 
to oppose it : by the first method wc forget our 
miseries ; by the last we only conceal them from 
others. By struggling with misfortunes, we are 
sure to receive some wounds in the conflict ; but 
■thod to come off victorious, is by 



mng away. 



On our Thi 



Madbmoiselle Clairon, a celebrated 
at Paris, seems to me the most perfect female 
figure I have ever seen upon any 
perhaps that nature has been more liberal of 
personal beauty to her, than some to be seen 
upon our theatres at home. There are actresses 
here who have as much of what connoisseurs 
eall statuary grace, by which is meant eleganct 
unconnected with motion, as she ; but they all 
fall infinitely short of her, when the soul cornea 
to give expression to the limbs, and 
every feature. 

Her first appearance is excessively e 



L 



she never comes in staring round upon the com- Mile. 
pany, aa if ehe intended to count the benefits of Clairoo ^ 
the house, or at le:i9t to sre, as welj as be seen. 
Her eyes are always, at first, intently fixed upon 
the persons of the drama, and she lifts them, by 
degrees, with enchanting diffidence, upon the 
spectators. Her first speech, or at least the first 
part of it, is delivered with scarcely any motion 
of the arm ; her hands and her tongue never set 
together ; but the one prepares us for the 
other. She sometimes begins with a mute, elo- 
quent attitude ; but never goes forward all at 
once with hands, eyes, head, and voice. This 
observation, though it may appear of no import- 
e, should certainly be adverted to j nor do I 
any one performer {Garrick only excepted) 
among us, that is not, in this particular, apt to 
offend. By this siniple beginning she gives her- 
If a power of rising in the passion of the scene. 
.s she proceeds, every gesture, every look, 
iquires new violence, till at last, transported, 
she fills the whole vehemence of the part, and 
all the idea of the poet. 

Her hands are not alternately stretched out, 
and then drawn in again, as with the singing 
en at Sadler's Wells : they arc employed 
with graceful variety, and every moment please 
with new and unexpected eloquence. Add to this, 
that their motion is generally from (he shoulder i 
ahe never flourishes her hands while the up|«r 
part of her atm is motionless, nor has she the 
ridiculous appearance aa if her elbows were pinned 
to her hips. 



46 THE BEE 

Advice to But, of aU tlie cautions to be given our rising 
actressee, I would particuJarly reconiiuend it I 
them never to lake notice of the audience upon 
any occasion whatsoever ; let tlie spectators ap- 
plaud never so toudly, their praiees should pass, 
except at the end of the epilogue, with seemii^ 
inattention. I can never pardon a lady on the 
stage, who, when she draws the admiration o( 
the whole audience, turns about to make them a 
low curtsy for their applause. Sucli a figure n 
longer contjnues Belvidcra, but at once dropa 
into Mrs Gibber. Suppose a eolier tradesman, 
who once a~year takes his shilling's worth at 
Drury Lane, in order to be delighted with the 
figure of a queen — the queen of Sheba, for iti» 
stance, or any other queen — this honest n 
no other idea of the great but from their superior 
pride and impertinence : suppose such ; 
placed among the spectators, the first figure that 
prcBcnis on the stage is the queen herself, curtsy- 
ing and cringing to all the company, how can he 
Jancy her the iiaughty favourite of King Solomon 
the Wise, who ap 
than the wife of hi 

men of a nicer relish tn this respect, and such 
conduct must disgust every spectator who loves 
to have the illusion of nature strong upon h' 
Yet, while I recommend to our accre 
skiltiil attention to gesture, I would not have 
them study it in the looking-glass. This, " 
out some precaution, will render their a 
formal ; by too great an intimacy with this, they 
become stiff and affected. People seldom int- 



THE BEE 47 

prove when they have no other model but them- actresses 
selves to copy after. I remember to have known 
a notable performer of the other sex, who made 
great use of this flattering monitor, and yet was 
one of the stififest figures I ever saw. I am told 
his apartment was hung round with looking- 
glassy that he might see his person twenty times 
reflected upon entering the room; and I will 
make bold to say he saw twenty very ugly 
fellows whenever he did so. 



THE BEE. 
No. ni.-SATURDAY, OCTOBER zo, 1759, 



On 1 



: Ust 



Use of TT is usually said by grammariann, that the use 
of language is to express our wante and 
desires ; but men who know the world hold, 
and 1 think with some show of reason, that he 
who best knows how to keep his necessicies 
private U the most likely person to have them 
redressed ; and tbat the true use of speech is 
not so much to express our wants, as to conceal 

When we reflect on the manner in which 
mankind generally confer their favours, there 
appears something so attractive in riches, that 
the large heap generally collects from the smaller ; 
and the poor find as much pleasure in increasing 
the enormous mass of the rich, as the miser, who 
owns it, sees happiness in its increase. Nor is 
there in this any thing repugnant to the laws of 
morality. Seneca himself allows, that in con- 
ferring benefits, the present should always be 
suited to the dignity of the receiver. Thus the 
rich receive large presents, and are thanked for 



THE BEE 49 

accepting them ; men of middling stations are Wantii 
obliged to be content witli presents something """^ . 
a ; while the beggar, who may be truly said B^^'^K 
want indeed, is well paid if a farthing rewards 
1 warmest solicitatione. 

Every man who hss seen the world, and hi* 
had hia ups and downs in life, as the expression 
ust have frequently experienced the truth of 
this doctrine, and must know, that to have much, 
to seem to have it, is the only way to have 
IV. Ovid finely compares a man of broken 
une to a falling column ; the lower it sinks, 
greater is that weight it is obliged to sustain. 
Thus, when a man's circumstances are such that 
he has no occasion to borrow, he finds numbers 
willing to lend him ; but should his wants be 
such that he sues for a trifle, it is two to one 
whether he may be trusted with the smallest 
A certain young fellow whom I knew, 
whenever he had occasion to ask his fricDd for 
inca, used to prelude his request as if he 
wanted two hundred; and talked eo familiarly 
of large sums, that none could ever think he 
wanted a small one. The same gentleman, 
whenever he wanted credit for a suit of clothes, 
always made the proposal in a laced coat ; for 
he found by experience, that if he appeared 
shabby on these occasions, his t»lor had taken 
an oath against trusting ; or what was every 
whit as bad, his foreman was out of the way, 
and should not be at home for some time. 

There can be no inducements to reveal oui' 
intE, exccjil to find pity, and by this means 



5« THE BEE 

LPi^and relief; but before a poor man opens bis miad in 
"tndship juch circuniBiances, he should firet consider 
whether he is contented to loee the esteei 
the person be solicits, and whether he ie wi 
to give up friendship to excite compassion. Pity 
aod friendship are passions incompatible with 
each other ; and it is imposBiblc that both caa 
reside in any breast for the smallest space, with* 
out impairing each other. Friendship is n 
up of esteem and pleasure ; pity is composed of 
sorrow and contempt: the mind may for some 
time fluctuate between them, but it never calj 
entertain both at once. 

In fact pity, though it may often relieve, ii 
at best a short-lived passion, and seldom afford* 
distress more than transitory assistance ; with 
some it scarce lasts from the £rst impulse till thci 
hand can be put into the pocket ; with others il 
raay continue for twice that space ; and on somt 
of extraordinary sensibility I have seen it operate 
for half an hour together : but still, last as it 
may, it generally produces but beggarly effects ; 
and where, from this motive, we give five 
farthings, from others we give pounds ; what> 
ever be our feelings from the first impulse of 
distress, when the same distress solicits a second 
cinie, we then feel with diminished sensibility } 
and, like the repetition of an echo, every stroke 
becomes weaker ; till, at last, our sensations lose 
all mixture of sorrow, and degenerate into down- 
right contempt. 

These speculations bring to my mind the fate 
of a very good-natured fellow who is no\ 



THE BEE M 

He wati iH'ed in a couniing-liouse, and A story 
hie father dying jueC as he was out of his time, 
left him an handsome fortune, and many friends 
to adviiie with. The restraint in which my 
friend had been brought up had thrown a gloom 
ujwn his temper, which some regarded as prud- 
ice ; and, from sucli considerations) he had 
■ery day repeated offers of friendship, Such 
I had money, were ready to ofTer him their 
isistance tliat way ; and they who had daughters, 
fretjuently, in the warmth of affection, advised 
to marry. My friend, however, was in 
circuniatances ; he wanted neither money, 
friends, nor a wife, and therefore modestly de- 
clined their proposals- 
Some errors, however, in the management of 
his affnirs, and several losses in trade, soon 
brought him to a different way of thinking ; and 
he at last considered that it was his best way to 
let his friends know that their offers were at 
length acceptable. His first address was to a 
scrivener, who bad formerly made him frequent 
offers of money and friendship, at a time when, 
perhaps, he knew those offers would have been 
refused. As a man, therefore, confident of not 
being refused, he requested the use of a hundred 
guineas for a few days, as he just then had 
occasion for money. " And pray. Sir," replied 
the scrivener, " do you want all this money ! " 
— "Want it. Sir," says the other, "if I did 
not want it, 1 should not have asked it." — " I 
am sorry for that," says the friend ; " for those 
who want money when they borrow, will always 



SI THE BEE 

A stor; wact money v/hea ihey should come to pay. 
To say the truth, Sir, money is money now j 
and I believe it is all sunk in the bottom of 
the sea, for my part ; and he that has f 
iittle, is a fool if he (toee not keep what he 
has got." 

Not quite disconcerted by this reftisal, our 
adventurer was resolveii to apply to another, 
whom he knew was the very best friend he had 
in the world. The gentleman whom he 
addressed, received his proposal with all the 
affability that could be expected from generous 
friendship. " Let me see, — you want a hundred 
guineas ; and, pray, dear Jack, would not fifty 
answer ? " — " If you have but lifty to spare, 
I must be contented." — " Fifty to spare ! 
not say tliar, for I believe I have hut twenty 
about me." — "Then I must borrow the other 
thirty from some othei' friend." — "And pray," 
replied Uie friend, "would it not be the best 
way to borrow the whole money from that other 
friend, and then one note will serve for all, you 
know ? You know, my dear Sir, that you 
make no ceremony with nie at any time ; 
know I'm your friend, when you choose a bit of 
dinner or so — Yon, Tom, see the gentleman 
down. You won't (orget to dine with us now 
and then f Your very humble servant." 

Distressed, but not discouraged, at this treat- 
ment, he was at last resolved to find that assist- 
ance from love, which he could not have from 
tnendship. A young lady, a distant relation 
the mother's side, had a fortune in her own 



THE BEE SJ 

hanAa ; and, as ehe had already made all the continiu 
advances that her sex's modesty would permit, 
he made his proposal with confidence. He 
soon, however, perceived, that Na haninipi civr 
" id the fmr one i'mJ. Slie had lately fallen 
' ' ' ' ■ ither, who had more 

ighbourhood thought it 



o btrip my poor friend 
clothes flew piece by 
, and he seemed at 



deeply in 

money, and the whole nt 

would be a match, 

iry day now began 
of his former finery ; his 

[liece to the pawnbroter 
ength equipped in the genuine livery of i 
fortune. But still he thought himself secure 
from actual necessity ; the niunberleas invitations 
he had received Co dine, even alter his losses, 
yet unanswered ; he was, therefore, now 
resolved to accept of a dinner, because he wanted 
lis maimer he actually lived among 
his friends a whole week witltout being openly 
affronted. The last place I saw him in was 
reverend divine's. He had, as he fancied, 
just nicked the time of dinner, for he came in 
Bs the cloth was Iiyiag. He took a chair with- 
out being desired, and talked for some ume with- 
being attended to. He assured the company, 
that nothing procured so good an appetite as a 
walk, in the Park, where he bad been that 
morning. He went on, and praised the figure 
of the damask luble-cloth : talked of a feast 
where he had been the day before, but that the 
venison was overdone. But all diis procured 
him no invitation : fiodiog, therefore, the gemlc- 
Run of the houae insensible to all his fetches, he 



54 THE BEE 

dvice to thought propec, at last, to retire, and mend hiu 
teggars gppgfite by a second walk in the Park. 

You then, O ye beggars of my acquaintance, 
whether in rags or lace— whether in Kent Street, 
or the Mall — whether at the Smyrna or St 
Giles's, — might I be permitted to advtGe as b 
friend, never seem to want the favour which you 
solicit. Apply to every passion but human pity 
for redress. You may find permanent relief from 
vanity, from self-interest, or from avarice, 
from compassion — never. The very eloquence 
of a poor man is disgusting ; aad that mouth 
which is opened even hy wisdom, is seldom ex- 
pected to close without the horrors of a petition. 

To ward off the gripe of poverty, you must 
pretend to be a stranger to her, and she will at 
least use you with ceremony. If you be caught 
dining upon a halfpenny porringer of pease-soup 
and potatoes, praise the whotesomeness of your 
frugd repast. You may observe that Dr 
Cheyne has prescribed pease- broth for liie 
grave! ; hint tha.t you are not one of those who 
are always making a deity of your belly. If, 
agab, you are obliged to wear flimsy stuff in the 
midst of winter, be the first to remark iliat stufis 
are very much worn at Paris ; or, if there be 
found some irreparable defects in any part of 
your equipage, which cannot be concealed by all 
the arts of silting cross-legged, coaxing, or darn- 
ing, say that neither you nor Samson Gideon 
were ever very fond of dress. If you be a philo- 
sopher, hint that Plato or Seneca are tlie tailora 
you choose to employ : assure the company, that 



THE BEE 55 

xo&D ought Id be conteni with a bare covering, Histmr 
since what is now so much hie pride, was ^ 
formerly hia shame. nypati* 

In short, however caught, never give out ; but 
ascribe lo the frugality of your disposition, what 
others might be apt to attribute to the narrow* 
aess of your circumstances. To be poor, and to 
seem poor, ia a certain method never to rises 
pride Id tlie great is hateful ; in the wise it is 
ridiculous; but beggarly pride is a rational 
vanity which I have beeti taught to applaud 



The HiiTORv of Hvi'ati*. 

Man, when secJuded from Bociety, is not a 
more solitary being than the woman who leaves 
the duties of her own sex to invade the privileges 
of ours. She seems, in such circumstances, like 
one in banishment ; she appears like a neutral 
being between tlie sexes ; and, though she may 
have the admiration of both, she (inds true hnppi- 
ness from neitliei'. 

Of all ihe ladies of antiquity, I have read of 
none who was ever more justly celebrated than 
the bcautiliil Hypatia, the daughter of Theon 
the philosopher. This most accomplished o[ 
women waa born at Alexandria, la the rrign of 
Thcodosius the younger. Nature was never 
more lavish of its gifts than it had been to her, 
endued as she was with the moat exalted under* 
stnnding, and the happiest turn to science. 



S6 THE BEE 

Hiatory Education completed what nature had begun, 
'^ and made her the prodtgv not only of her age, 
but the glory of her nex. 

From her father she learned geometry and. 
astronomy ; she collected from the conversaiion 
' and schools of the other philosophers, for which 
Alexandria was at that time famous, the prin- 
ciples of the rest of the sciences. 

What cannot be conquered by natural pene- 
tration and a passion for study I The boundlew 
knowledge which, at that period of lime, was 
required to form the character of a philosopher 
no way discouraged her ; she delivered herself 
up to the study of Aiistode and Plato, and soon 
not one in all Alexandria understood bo per- 
fectly as she all the difficulties of iliese two 
philosophers. 

But not their systems alone, but those of ever^ 
other sect, were quite tamiliar to her ; and, m 
this knowledge, she added that of polite learnings 
and the art of oratory. All the learning which 
it was possible for the human mind to contain^ 
being joined to a most enchanting eloquenc^ 
rendered this lady the wonder not only of thet 
|H)]iuIace, who easily admire, but of philosopherA 
themaelvea, who are seldom fond of admiradoni; 

The city of Alexandria was every day crowded 
with stranger*, who came from all parts of GreeraS 
and Asia to see and hear her. As for tlie charmt 
of her person, they might not probably have 
mentioned, did she not join to a beauty the moie 
striking, a virtue that might repress the most 
anumiDg ; and though, in the whole capital. 



THE BEE 

fanieil for charms, there was not one who could Hi 
eaml hei in beauty, though in a city the resort 
Of all the learning then existing in the world, 
there was not one who could equal her in know- 
ledge ; yet, with such accomplishments, Hypatia 
was the most modest of her sex. Hei' reputa- 
tion for virtue was not less than her virtues ; and, 
though in a city divided between two factions, 
though visited by the wits and the philoeophers 
of the age, cdumny never dared to suspect her 
momiii, or attempt her character. Doth llie 
Christians and tiie Heathens who have trans- 
mitted her history and her misfortunes, have but 
one voice, when they speak of her beauty, her 
knowledge, and her virtue. Nay, so much 
harmony reigna in their accounts of this prodigy 
of perfection, that, in spite of tlie opposition of 
their faith, we should never have been able to 
judge of what religion was Hypatia, were we not 
informed, from otlier circumstances, tliat sbe was 
a heathen. Providence had taken so much pains 
in forming her, that we are almost induced Co 
complain of its not having endeavoured to make 
her a Christian ; but from this complaint we 
arc deterred by a thousand contrary obsena- 
tiuDS, which lead us to reverence its inscrutable 
mysteries. 

This great reputation, which she so justly was 
pOHxessed of, was, ut last, however, the occasion 
of her ruia. 

The person who then possessed the patriar- 
chate of Alexandria, w;u; equally remarkable for 
bis violence, cruelty, and pride. Conducted by 



1 



r 



SS THE BEE 

y an iU-grounded zeal tor the Cbriatian religion, 
•^ or, perhaps, desirous of augmenting his authority 
in the city, he had long meditated the banish- 
nienl of the Jews. A difference arising between 
them and the Christians, with respect to »onK 
public games, Beemed to him a proper juncture 
for putting his ambitious designs into execudon. 
He found no difficuJty in exciting the people) 
naturally disposed to revolt. The prefect who/ 
at that time, commanded the city, interposed oa 
this occasion, and thought it just to put one of 
the chief creatures of the patriarch to die torturej' 
in order to discoiw the first promoter of tfas 
conspiracy. The patriarch, enraged at the in-* 
justice he thought offered to his charaicter and 
dignity, and piqued at the protection which watf 
offered to the .Tews, sent for the chiefs of the 
synagogue, and enjoined them to renounce theit 
designs, upon pain of incurring his highest 



The Jews, far from fearing 
cited new tumults, in which several citizeUB had 
die misfortune to fall. The patriarch could DO 
longer contain: at the head of a numerous bod^ 
of Christians, he tlcw to the synagogues, whit^ 
he demolished, and drove the Jews from a citj^ 
of which they had been possessed since (he timcf 
of Alexander the Great. It may be easily 
imagined, that tlie prefect could not beholt^ 
without pain, his jurisdiction thus insulted,. AiU 
the city deprived of a number of its moct indtu^ 
triouB inhaHtants. 

The affair was, therefore, brought beforo i 



THE BEE 59 

emperor. The patriarcli complained of the ex- H 
cesses ol" the Jews, and the prefect, of the out- 
rages of the ptriarch. At this very juncture, 
five hundred monks of Mount Nitria, imagining 
the life of their chief to be in danger, and that 
their religion was threatened in his fall, flew into 
the city with angovernable rage, attacked the 
prefect in the streets, and, not content with 
loading htm with reproaches, wounded him iit 
Feral places. 

The citizens had by this time notice of the 
fury of the monkB ; they therefore assembled in 
a body, put the monks to flight, seized or him 
who had been found throwing a stone, and de- 
livered him to the prefect, who caused him to be 
t to death without farther delay. 
The patriarch immediately ordered the dead 
body, which had been exposed to view, to be 
taken down, procured for it all the pomp and 
rites of burial, and went even so far as himself to 
pronounce the funeral oration, in which he classed 
a seditious monk among the martyrs. This con- 
duct was by no means generally approved of; 
the most moderate even among the Christians 
rived and blamed his indiscretion ; but he 
now too far advanced to retire. He had 
made several overtures towards a reconciliation 
with the prefect, which not succeeding, he bore 
all chose an implacable hatred whom he imagined 
ive any hand in traversing his designs ; but 
atia was particularly destined to ruin. She 
I not lind pardon, as she was known to have 
St refined friendship for the prefect ; where- 



60 THE BEE 

Justice ibre tlie populace were incited against hec. 
3°'' Peter, a leader of the principal church, one of 
those vile slaves by which men in power are ' 
frequently attended — wretches ever ready 
commit any crime which they hope may rendeij 
them agreeable to their employer,— this feUow^, 
I say, attended by a crowd of villains, waite4( 
for Hypatia, aa she was returning from a visitij 
at her own door, seized her as she wan going in^ 
and dragged her to one of the churches called 
Cesarea, where, stripping her in a most inhuman 
manner, tliey exercised the most inhuman cruel-* 
ties upon her, cut her into pieces, and burnt her, 
remains to ashes. Such was the end of Hypatia, 
the glory of her own sex, and the asionishmenE 
of ours. 



On Justjce and Gekekobitv. 

Lrsippus is a man whose greatness of soul th^ 
whole world admires. His generoxity is eucb 
that it prevents a demand, and saves ilie receiver, 
the trouble and the confusion of a request. Hisi 
liberality also does not oblige more by its greati 
new than by his inimitable grace in givingj 
Sometimes he even distributes his bounties tt" 
strangers, and has been known to do good office 
to those who professed tliemeelves his eneraied 
All the world are unanimous in the praise of hii 
generosity ; there is only one sort of people whiT 
complain of his conduct,— Lysippus does no) 
pay his debts. 



THE BEE 6i 

; is no difficult matte]' to account for a G«aer- 
conduct so seemingly JQCompatible with itscif. °^ 
There ia greatness in beiDg geoerouB, and there 
■|s only simple justice in his satisfying creditors. 
Generosity is the part of a soul raised above the 
vulgar. There is in it something of what we 
admire in heroes, and praise with a degree of 
irc. Justice, oa the contrary, is a mere 
mechanic virtue, only fit for tradeameo, and what 
is practised by every broker in 'Ciiange Alley. 

In paying his debts a man barely doe« his 
duty, and it it an action attended with no sort of 
glory. Should Lysippus satjsfy his creditors, 
who would be at the pains of telling it to the 
world ! Generosity is a virtue of a very different 
complexion. It is raised above duty, and, from 
'ts elevation, attracts the attention and the praises 
if us little mortals below. 

In this manner do men generally reason upon 
justice and generosity. The first is despised, 
though a virtue essential to the good of society ; 
and the other attiacts our esteem, which too fre- 
quently proceeds from an impetuosity of temper, 
rather directed by vanity than reason. Lysippue 
is told that his banker asks a debt of forty 
pounds, and tliat a distressed acquaintance peti- 
tions for the same sum. He gives it without 
hesitating to the lattei' ; for he demands as a 
favour what the former requires as a debt. 

Mankind in general are not sufficiently ac- 
quainted with tlic impori of the wotA Juslkr ; it 
is commonly believed to consist only in a per> 
formance of tho^e duties to which the laws oi 



6i THE BEE 

:e society can oblige U3. This, I allow, is t 

'" times tlie import of the word, and in this 
justice IB discinguished from equity ; but there is 
a justice still more estenaive, and wliich can be 
shown to embrace all the virtues united. 

■. Justice may be defined [^asj, that virtue which 
impels us to give to evety per eon what is his due. 

' In this extended sense of the word, it compre- 
hends the practice of every virtue which reasQB 
i prescribes, or society should expect. Our duty 
to our Maker, to each other, and to ourselves, 
are fully answered, if we give them whj 
owe them. Thus justice, properly speaking, it 
the only virtue ; and all the rest hsve their origin 

The qualities of candour, fortitude, charity^ 
and generosity, for instance, are cot, in their o^ 
nature, virtues ; and if ever they deserve t 
title, it is owing only to justice, which impeU 
and directs them. Without euch a moderate, 
candour might becorae indiacretioD, fortitude 
obstinacy, charity imprudence, and generosity" 
mistaken profusion. 

A disinterested action, if it be oot conducted 
by justice, is at best indifferent in its nature, a 
not unfrequentJy even turns to vice. The e ^^ 
pcnses of society, of presents, of entertainment^ 
and the other helps of cheerfulness, are sctiunl 
merely indifferent, when not repugnant to a better 
method of disposing of our superfiuities ; but lbej» 
become vicious when they obstruct or exhauit 
our abilities from a more virtuous dispositii 
our circumstances. 



THE BEE 



6S 



True geaerOBity is a duty as itidisiien*ably Geoer- ; 
necenaary as those imposed upon us by law. It <»>t7 t 
is a rule imposed upoa us by reason, which 
should be [he sovereign law of a rational being. 
Dut this generosity does not consist in obeying \ 
every impulse of humanity, in following blind 
paasiod for our guide, and impairiog our circum- | 
atances by present benefactions, so as to render \ 
ua incapable of future oues. 

Misers are generally characterised as men 
without honour, or without humanity, who live 
only to accuniulate, and to this pasuon sacrilice 
every other happiness. They have been de- 
Hcribed as madmen, who, in the midst of abun- 
dance, banish every pleasure, and make, from 
imaginary wants, real cecessides. But few, very 
lew, corresjKiDd to this exaggerated picture; and 
pert)>ps there ie not one in whom all these 
circumstances are found united. Instead of this, 
we find the sober and the induattious branded by 
the vain and the idle with this odious appella- 
tion ; meo who, by frugality and labour, raive 
themselves above their equals, and contribute 
their share of industry to the common slock. 

Whatever the vain or the igtwrant may say, 
well were it for society had we more of these 
characters amongst us. In general, these close 
men are found at last the true benefactors of 
society. With an avaricious man we seldom 
lose in our dealings ; but too frequently in oui' 
commerce with prodigality. 

A French priest, whose name was Godinot, 
went for a long time by the name of the Griper. 



64 THE BEE 

' The He refused to relie\ e the most apparent wretched- 
Griper' neas, and, by a skilful mnnagemeDt of his vine- 
yard, had the good fortune to acquire immenw 
suras of money. The inhabitants of RheiniB, 
who were his fellow-citizens, detested him i and 
the populace, who neldom love a miser, whererer 
he went followed him with shouts of contempt. 
He still, however, continued his former simplicity 
of life, his amazing and unremitted frugality. 
He had long perceived the wants of the poor 
the city, particularly in having no water Injtwhat 
they were obliged to buy at an advanced price ; 
wherefore, that whole fortime which he had been 
amassing, he laid out in an aqueduct ; by which 
he did the poor more Dsefiil and lasting service, 
than if he had distributed his whole income in 
charity every day at his door. 

Among men long conversant with books, we 
too frequently find those misplaced virtues, of 
which I have been now complaining. We find 

I the studious animated with a strong passion for 
the great virtues, as they are mistakenly called, 
and utterly forgetful of the ordinary ones. The 
declamations of philosophy are generally rather 
exhausted on those supererogatory duties, than 
on such as are indispensably necessary. A man, 
therefore, who has taken his ideas of mankind 
from study alone, generally comes into the world 
with a heart melting at every fictitious distresa. 
Thus he is induced, by misplaced liberality, to 
put himself into the indigent circumstances of 
the person he relieves. 

I shall conclude this paper with tlie advice of 



^U^ 



THE BEE 6s 

one of the ancients, to a young man whom he F 
giving away all his substance to pretended ^ 

distress, " It is possible that the person you 
«lieve may be an honest man ; and I know that 
lOu who relieve him are such. You see, then, 
ly your generosity, you rob a man who is cer- \ 
ainly deservbg, to bestow it on one wlio may ' 

possibly be a rogue ; and, while you nre unjust 

in rewarding uncertain merit, you are doubly 

guilty by stripping yourself." 



"primus monales tulleti 



The Spanish nation has, for many t 
past, been remarkable for the grosKeGt ignorance 
in polite literature, especially in point of natural 
philosophy- — a science so useful to mankind, that 
her neighbours have ever esteemed it a matter of 
the greatest importance to endeavour, by repeated 
experiments, to strike a light out of the chao.i in 
■which truth seemed to be confounded. Their 
iity in this respect was so indiiferent, that 
though they had discovered new worlds, they 
at a Joss to explain the phenomeDa of their 
and their pride so unaccountable, that they 
disdained to borrow from others that 



66 THE BEE 

Father which tUeir natural indoleoce permitied them n 
Freijo to acquire. 

It gives me, however, a aecret Batisfaction 
behold an extraordinary genius now existing irs 
that nation, whose studious endeavourB aeiem caU 
culated to undeceive the nuperstitioua, and instrua 
the ignoiant,— I mean the Celebrated Padn) 
Freijo. In uttfavelling the myBteries of natorei 
and explaining physical experiments, he takes an 
opportunity of displaying the cODctirrence of 
second causes, in those very wonders which the 
Ttilgar ascribe to supernatural influence. 

An example of this kind happened a few years 
ago in a small town of the kingdom of Valencia. 
Pasting tlirough at the hour of mass, he alighted 
from his mule, and proceeded to the parish 
church, which he found extremely crowded, ; 
there appeared on the faces of the faithful a m 
than usual alacrity. The sun, it seems, which 
had been for some minutes under a cloud, had 
begun to shine on a large crucifix, that stood o 
the middle of the altar, studded with several' 
precious stones. The reflection from thesCi 
and from the diamond eyes of some silvef 
saints, so dazzled the multitude, that they unani- 
mously cried out, "A miracle! a miracle!" 
whilst the priest at the altar, with seeming conJ 
sternatioo, continued his heavenly conversationi 
Padre Freijo soon dissipated the charm, by lying 
his handkerchief round the head of one of thd 
statues, for which he was arraigned by lb* 
Inquisition ; whose flames, however, he has 
the good fortune hitherto to escape. 



h^ 




No. IV.-SATURDAY. OCTOBER z?, 175?. 

Miscellaneous. 



\X^ E R li 1 10 measure the merit of my present Miscel' 
undertaking by its success, or the rapidity laneoua 
of its Bile, I might he led to form conclusions by 
DO means favourable to Uie pride of an author. 
Should I estimate tny fame by its extent, every 
newspaper and every magazine would Jeave me 
far behind. Their fame is diffusa in a very 
wide cirde, tliat of some as far as Islington, and 
»onic yet fartJicr still ; while mine, I sincerely 
believe, has hardly travelled beyond the soimd'oT 
Bow-bell ; and while the works of others fly like 
unpinioned swans, I find my own move as heavily 
lu 3 new-plucked goose. 

Still, however, 1 have as much pride as they 
who have ten tiraea aa many readers. It is 
impossible to repeat all the agreeable deluetona in 
which a dinappointed author is apt to liiid com- 
fort. I conclude, that what my reputauon waDIS 
in extent, is Imadc up by its solidity. 'Mima 
juvat OJoria lata quam magna. 1 have great 



6S THE BEE 

Uiflcel- satisfaction in considering the delicacy and dia- 
Isneous cemment of those readers I have, and in ascrib- 
ing my want of popularity to the ignorance o 
inattention of those 1 have not. All the world 
may forsake an author, but vanity will never 
forsake hi in. 

Yet, notwithstanding so sincere a coniession, 
I was once induced to show my indignati 
against the public, by discontinuing my i 
deavours to piease ; and wae bravely resolved^ 
like Raleigh, to vex them by burning my manu« 
script in a passion. Upon recollection, how- 
ever, I coneideretl what net or body of people 
would be displeased at my rashnesB. The sua^ 
after so sad an accident, might shine next 
morning as bright as usual { men might laugh am} 
sing the next day, and transact businesE i 
before, and not a single creature feel any regret 
but myself. 

I reflected upon the atory of a minister, whoj 
in the reign of Charles II., upon a certain 
sion, resigned ail his posts, and retired ini 
country in a fit of resentment. But, as he had 
not given the world entirely up with his ambfe 
tion, he sent a messenger to town, to see how 
the courtiers would bear his resignation. UpoQ 
the messenger's return he was asked, whethec 
there appeared any commotion at court .* To 
which he replied, there were very great ones. 
"Ay," says the ministef, "I knew my friend* 
would make a hustle ; all petitioning the king 
for my restoration, 1 presume ? "^" No, Sir, 
replied the messenger, " they are only petitioning 



THE BEE 69 

Ills majesty to be put in your place.'' In the Miscel> 1 
same manner, should I retire in indignation, in- laneoui | 
stead of having Apollo in mourning, or the 
Muses in a fit of the spleen ; instead of having 
the learned worfd apostrophizing at my untimely 
decease, — perhaps all Grub Street might laugh 
at my fall, and self-approving dignity might 
never be able to shield me from ridicule. In 
short, I am resolved to write on, if it were only 
to spite them. If the present generation will not 
hear my voice, hearken, O Posterity, to you I 
call, and from you I expect redrees ! What 
rapture will it not give to have the Scaligers, 
Daciers, and Warhurtons of future times, com- 
menting with admiration upon every line I now 
write, working away those ignorant creatures 
who offer to arraign my merit, with all the 
virulence of learned reproach. Ay, my friends, 
let them feel it : coll names, never spare them ; 
they deserve it all, and ten times more. I have 
been told of a critic, who was crucified, at the 
command of another, to the reputation of Homer. 
That, no doubt, was more than poetical justice, 
and I shall be perfectly content if those who 
criticise me are only clapped in the pillory, kept 
fifteen days upon bread and water, and obliged 
to nm the gantlope through Paternoster Row. 
The truth is, I can expect happiness from Pos- 
terity cither way. If I write ill, happy in being 
forgotten; if well, happy in being remembered 
with respect. 

Yet, considering things in a prudential light, 
perhaps 1 was mistaken in designing my paper 



70 THE BEE 

Miacet as an agreeable relaxation to the etudious, c. _ 
laneous jj^ip [q conversation among the gay ; instead of 
addressing it to sucli, 1 should Lave written down 
to the taste and apprehension of the many, aitd 
sought for reputation on the broad road. Literary 
feme, I now find, like religious, generally begin* 
among the Vulgar. Aa for the polite, they are 
BO very polite as never to applaud upon any 
account. One of these, with a face screwed 
up into affectation, tells you, that fooU may 
admire, but men of sense only afi^ro-ve. Thu^ 
lest he should rise into rapture at any thing new, 
he keeps down every passion but pride and self* 
importance ; approves with phlegm, and the poot 
author is damned in the taking a pinch of exufk 
Another has written a book himself, and being 
condemned for a dunce, he turns a liori of king'* 
evidence in criticism, and now becomes the 
terror of every offender. A third, possessed of 
fiill-growa reputation, shades off every beam 0^ 
favour from those who endeavour to grow be>i 
nenth him, and keeps down that merit, whieht 
but for his influence, might rise into equal emiu 
nencc. While others, still worse, peruse old 
books for their amusement, and new books only, 
to condemn ; so that the public seem heartilj^ 
sick of all but tlie business of the day, and read 
every thing new with as little attention as ■■'— -^™ 
eicamine the faces of the paseing crowd. 

From these considerations, I was once detcr^ 
mined to throw off all connections with tasM^ 
and fairly address my countrymen in tlie saw 
engaging style and manner with other ptriodici 



THE BEE 71 

pamphlets, much more ia vogue tlian probably MisceU 
■ ; shall ever be. To effect this, I had la™""^ 
thoughts of changing the title into that of the 
RovaL Beb, the Antioalucan Bee, or the 
's MdQAiiNK. I had laid in a proper atock 
of popular topics, tuchaaencomiums on the King 
of PruBKia, iavectiveR ag^ust the Queen of Hun- 
gary and the French, the necessity of a militia, 
r undoubted aovereignty of the aeas, reflections 
upon the present state of affairs, a dissertation 
upon liberty, some seasonable thaughtG upon the 
intended bridge of Blackfriars, and an address to 
Brilons; the history of an old woman, whose 
teeth grew three inches long, an ode upon our 
victoriea, a rebus, an acroBtic upon Miss I'cgg^ 
P., and a journal of the weather. All this, 
together widi four extraordinary pages of Iclicr- 
freji, a beautiful map of England, and two 
prints ctu'iously colouced from nature, I fancied 
might touch their very souh. I was actually 
beginning an address to tlie people, when my 
pride at last overcame my prudence, and deter- 
mined me to endeavour to please by the goodness 
of my entertainment, rather than by the magni- 
ficence of my sign. 

The Spectator, and many succeeding essayists, 
frequently inform us of the numerous compli- 
B paid them in the course of their lucubra- 
tions — of the fre<)uent encouragements they meet 
a ins[H(e diem with ardouc, and increase their 
eagernesR to please. 1 have received my Icllert 
as well as they ; hut, alas ! not congratulatory 
oncs^ — Dot assuring me of success and favour, — 



73 THE BEE 

Miscd- liut pregnant with bodings that might shake even 

laneous fortitude itself. 

One gentleman assures me, he intends to 
throw away no more threepences in purchasing 
the Bee } and, what is still more dismal, he will 
not recommend me as a poor author wanting 
encouragement to his neighbourhood, which, it 
aecms, is very numerous. Were my soul set 
Upon threepences, what anxiety might not such 
a denunciation produce ! But such does not 
liappen to be the present motive of publicatioa : 
I write partly to show my good nature, and 
partly to show my vanity j nor will I lay down 
the pen till I am satisfied oae way or another. 

Others have disliked the title and the motto 
of my paper ; point out a mistake in the one, and 
assure me the other has been consigned to dulnesa 
by anticipation. All thia may be true ; but 
•mhat 13 that to me ? Titles and mottoes to 
bcwks are like escutcheons and dignities in the 
hands of a king : the wise sometimes condescend 
to accept of them ; but none but a fool will 
imagine them of any real importance. We 
ought to depend upon intrinsic merit, and not 
the slender helps of title. Natii qun non fecimut 

For my part I am ever ready to mistrust a 
promising title, and have, at some expense, beeo 
instructed not to hearken to the voice of an ad- 
vertisement, let it plead never so loudly, or never 
so long. A countryman coming one day to 
Smithfield, in order to take a slice of Bartholo- 
mew Fair, found a perfect show before every 



THE BEE 

)ih. Tlie dnimmer, the tire-eater, the wij 
walker, and the salt-box, were all cni|)loyed ™ - 

iDTite him in. "Just a-going s the court of the ^'"" 
King of Prussia in all his glory : pray, gentie- 
men, walk ia and eee." From people who 
generously gave so much away, the clown ex- 
pected a nionBtrous bargain for his money when 
he got in. He steps up, pays his aixpence, the 
curtain is drawn ; when, too lace, he linda that 
he hiid die best part of the show for nothing at 
the door. 



A Flemish Traoitcon. 

EvEKV country has its traditions, which, either 
too minute, or not sufficiently authentic to receive 
historical sanction, are handed down among the 
vulgar, and serve at once to instruct and amuse 
them. Of this number, the adventures of Robin 
Hood, the hunting of Chevy Chase, and the 
bravery of Johnny Armstrong, among the Eng- 
lish ; of Kaul Dereg, among the Irtsh ; and 
Creighton, among the Scots, are instances. Of 
all the traditions, however, I remember to have 
heard, I do not recollect any more remarkable 
than one still current in Flanders ; a story gener- 
ally the first the peasants tell their children, when 
they bid them behave like Bidderman the Wise. 
It is hy no means, however, a model tu be set 
before a police people for imitation ; since if, on 
the one hand, wc perceive in it tlie steady in- 
fluence of patriotism, we, on the other, lind as 



roditiB 



74 THE BEE 

A strong a tiesire of revenge. But, to waive i 
Flemish duclion, let us to die story. 

\Vhen tlie Saracena overran Europe with theif 
armies, and penetrated as far even as Antwerp^ 
Bidtierman was lord of a city, which timt 
since swept into destruction. As the inhatntanti 
of this country were divided under separate^ 
leaders, the Saracens found nn easy contjuesl^ 
and the city of Bidderman, aniong the rest, be- 
came 3 prey to the victors. 

Thus dispossessed of his paternal city, oui 
unfortunate governor was obliged to seek lefuge 
from the neighbouring princes, wlio were as yet 
unsubdued, and he for some time lived in a 
of wretched dependence among them. 

Soon, however, his love to his native country- 
brought him back to his own city, resolved to 
rescue it from the enemy, or fall in the attempU 
Thus, in disguise, he went among the inhabitants* 
and endeavoured, but in vain, to excite the 
a revolt. Former misfortunes lay bo heavily OS 
their njinda, that they rather chose to suffer lb* 
most cruel bondage, than attempt to vindicau 
their former freedom. » 

As he was tbi;s one day employed, whethtt 
by information or from suspicion is iu>t kno' 
he was apprehended by a Saracen soldier a 
spy, and brought before the very tribunitl 
which be once presided. The account he gave 
of himself was by no means satisfactory. Hi 
could produce no friends to vindicate his char- 
acter ; wherefore, as the Saracens knew not their 
prisoner, and as they had no direct proofs against 



THE BEE 



him, diey were content with condemning him to Traditii 
be publicly whipt as a ^agabowl. 

The execution of this sentence was accord- 
ingly performed with the utmost rigour. Bid- 
derman waa bound to the post, the executioner 
seeming disposed to add to the cruelty of the 
ienience, as he received no bribe for lenity. 
Whenever Bidderman groaned under the scourge, 
the other, redoubling his blowe, cried out, "Does 
the villain murmur ! " If Bidderman entreated 
bui a moment's respite from torture, the otlier 
only repealed his former exclamation, " Does the 

From this period, revenge, as well as patriot- 
ism, took entire poyseeaion of his soul> His fury 
stooped so low as to follow the executioner with 
unremitting resentment. But, conceiving that 
the best method to attain these ends was to 
acquire some eminence in the city, he laid him- 
self out to oblige its new masters, studied every 
art, and practised every meanness, that serve to 
promote the needy, or render the poor pleasing | 
and, by these means, in a few years, he came to 
be of some note in the city, which justly belonged 
entirely to him. 

The executioner was, therefore, the first ob- 

ect of his resentment, and he even practised the 
west fraud to gratify the revenge he owed him> 
A piece of plate, which Bidderman had pre- 
viously stolen from the Saracen governor, he 
privately conveyed into the executioner's house, 
u)d then gave information of the theft. They 
who we any way acquainted with the rigour of 



} 



76 THE BEE 

A the Arabian laws, know that theft is puniahei 
Flemiah ^ith immediate death. The proof was direct i. 
TraHihon j^^ ^^^ . ji^j. executioner had nothing to ofFe 
in his own defence, and he was therefore coa 
demned to be beheaded upon a scaffold in thi 
}niblic market-place. Aa there was no execU' 
tioner in the city but the very man who was non 
to suffer, Bidderman himself undertook this, ti 
him, most agreeable office. The criminal was 
conducted from the judgment seat bound with 
cords ! the aeaiFold was erected, and he placed 
in such a manner as he might lie most convenient 
for the blow. 

But his death alone was not sufficient to sausfy 
the resentment of this extraordinary man, unless 
it was aggravated with every circumstance of 
cruelty. Wherefore, coming up the scaffold, 
and disponing everything in readinees for the 
inieaded blow, with the sword in his hand he 
approached the criminal, and, whispering 
low voice, aasuced him that he himself was the 
very person that had once been used with so 
much cruelty ; that, to his knowledge, he died 
very innocently, for the plate had been stolen by 
himself, and privately conveyed into the house of 
the other. 

"Oh, my countrymen!" cried the criminal, 
"do you hear what this man says'" — "Does 
the villain murmur?" replied Uidderman, and 
iramedialeiy, at one blow, severed his head from 
his body. 

Still, however, he was twt content, till he had 
ample vengeance of the governors of the city^ 



THE BEE 77 

who condemned him. To cflcct this he hiied S*C>cit 
a small house adjoiniiig to the town wall, under "^ liisw 
which he eirery day dug, and carried out the 
eanb in a basket. In this imrenutting labour he 
conUDued severai years, erery day digging a 
little, and cairying the earth unsuspected away. 
By this means, he at last made a secret coin- 
municatjon from the country into the city, and 
only wanted the appearance of an enemy in order 
to betray it. This opportunity at letigth otfered ; 
the French army came into the neighbourhood, 
but had DO thoughts of sitting down before a 
town which they considered aa impregnable. 
Bidderman, however, soon altered their reeolu- 
tioiu, and, upon communicating his plan to the 
general, he embraced it with ardour. Through 
the private passage above luenlioned, he intro- 
duccd a large body of the moGt resolute soldiers, 
who soon opened the gates for the rest, and the 
whole army rushing in, put every Saracen that 
.s found to the sword. 



The Sag*c)tv of some Insects. 

To iht jinlhrn- of lie Ber. 

SiK, — Animals, in general, are sagacious, in 
proportioo u they cultivate society. The ele- 
phant and ihe beaver show the greatest signs of 
this when uiuted i but when man intrudes into 
their communities, tliey lone all their spirit uf 
industry, and testify but a very small share nf 



78 THE BEE 

The that sagacity, for which, when they ; 
Spider social state, they are so remarkable. 

Among insects, the labours of the bee and the 
ant have employed the atteotioii and adm 
of the naturalist j but their whole sagacity i( 
upon separation, and a single bee or ant tecna 
destitute of every degree of industry, is the moat 
stupid insect imaginable, languishes for a tjr 
solitude, and soon dies. 

Of aU toe fiolitary insects I have ever 
marked, the spider is the most sagacious ; 
its actions, to me, who have attentively cooJ 
sidered them, seem almost to exceed belief; 
This insect is formed by nature for a state 
war, not only upon other insects, but upon e 
oilier. For this state nature seems perfectly 
well to lia»e formed it. Its head and breast' 
are covered with a strong natural coat of mail, 
which is impenetrable to the attempts of every 
other insect, and its belly is enveloped in a son' 
pliant skin, which eludes the sttng i 
wasp. Its legs are terminated by strong clawSj 
not tinlike those of a lobster, and their va<t 
length, like spears, serves to keep every assailanC 

Not worse hinuBhed for observation than £ot 
an attack or a defence, it has several eyes, large^ 
transparent, and covered with a homy substance,, 
which, however, does not impede its visioiL 
Besides this, it is fhmished with a forceps abovp 
the mouth, which serves to lull o 
prey already caught in its claws or ii 

Such are the implements of war with whicb 



THE BEE 79 

4S' body U immediately furnished ; but its net The 
itangle the enemy Beems what it chieilj' Spider 
to, and what it takes moBt pains to render 
mplete as pasGible. Nature has furnished 
the body of this little creature with a glutinous 
liquid, which, proceeding from the anus, it spins 
thread, coarser or finer as it chooses to 
dilate its sphincter. In order to &x 
thread, when it begins to weave it emits a 
small drop of its liquid against the wall, which, 
hardening by degrees, serves to hold the thread 
very firmly. Then receding from the first point, 
as it recedes the thread lengthens ; and, when 
the spider has come lo the place where the 
other eod of the thread should be fixed, gather- 
ing up with its claws the thread which would 
otherwise be too slaclt, it is stretched tightly, 
and fixed in the same manner to the wall M 

In this manner, it spins and fixes seeeral 
threads parallel to each other, which, eo le 
speak, «erve an the warp to the intended web. 
To form the woof, it spins in the same manner 

thread, transversely fixing one end to the first 
thread that was spun, and which is always liw 
itrongest of the whole web, and the other to the 
wall. All iliese thlcads, being newly sTnm, ar« 
glutinous, and therefore stick to each other 
whenever they happen lo touch ; and, in those 
parts of the web most exposed to be torn, our 
natural artist strengthens them, by doubling the 
threads sometimes six-fold. 

Thus far naturalists have gone in the deacrip- 



Bo THE BEE 

The tion of ihis animal ; what Ibllows, is the result 
Spiaer of my own obEervalion upon that Bjiecien of the 
ioBcct called an house spider. I perceived, about 
four years ago, a large spider in one cornt 
my room, making its web ; and, though the 
maid frequently levelled her fatal broom against 
tlie labours of the little animal, I had the good^ 
fortune then to prevent its destruction ; and, X 
may Bay, it more than paid nie by the eaten 
ment it afforded • 

In three days the web was, with incredible 
diligence, completed ; nor could I avoid think- 
ing, that the insect seemed to exult in its 
abode. It frequently traversed it round, es 
ined the strength of every part of it, retired 
its hole, and came out very frequently. The 
first enemy, however, it had to encounter, waa 
another and a much larger spider, which, having 
no web of its own, and having probably ex' 
hausted all its stock in former labours of this 
kind, came to inv&de the property of its neigh- 
bour. Soon, then, a terrible encounter ensued, 
in which the invader seemed to have the victory, 
and the laborious spider was obliged to take 
refuge in its hole. Upon this I perceived th^ 
victor using every art to draw the enemy from 
his stronghold. He seemed to go off, but quickly 
returned ; and when he found all arts vain, began 
U> demolish the new web without mercy. This 
brought on another battle, and, contrary to my 
expectations, the laborious spider became con-^ 
queror, and fairly killed his antagonist. 

Now, then, in peaceable possession of what 



THE BEE 81 

«ras Justly its own, it wailed three days with the The 

Bt patience, repairing the breaches of its Siridw 
web, and taking no sustenance that I could per- 
. At last, however, a large blue fly fell 
into the snare, aod etruggled hard to get loose. 
spider gave it leave to entangle itself as 
much as possible, but it seemed to be too strong 
for the cobweb. I muBt own I was greatly 
surprised when I naw the hiiider immediately 
sally out, and in less than a minute weave a new 
. round its captive, by which the motion of 
wings was stopped ; and when it was fairly 
hampered in this manner, it was seized, and 
dragged into the hole. 

In this manner it lived, tn a precarious state ; 
d nature seemed to have fitted it for such a 
life, lor upon a single fly it subsisted for more 
than a week. I once put a wasp into the net; 
but when the spider came out in order to seize it 
ual, upon perceiving what kind of an enemy 
it had to deal with, it instantly broke all the 
bands that held it fast, and contributed all that 
lay in its power to disengage so formidable an 
antagonist. When the wasp was at liberty, I 
txpected the spider woiUd have set about repair- 
ing the breaches that were made in its net, but 
it seems were irreparable ; wherefore the 
, cobweb was now entirely forsaken, and a new 
begun, which was completed in the usual 

I had now a mind to try how many cobwebs 

single spider could furnish ; wherefore 1 

destroyed this, and the inaect set about another. 



82 THE BEE 

The When 1 destroyed the other also, its whole Etocfc 
Spider seemed entirely exhausted, and it could spin no 
more. The arts it made use of to support itself 
ROW deprived of its great means of subsiBtcoc^ 
were indeed surprising, I have seen it roll w 
its legs like a ball, and lie motionless for houn 
together, but cautiously watching all the time| 
when a fly happened to approach sufficiently nea " 
it would dart out all at once, and often seii 
its prey. 

Of this life, however, it soon began to gro^ 
weary, and resolved to invade the posseasion o 
some other spider, since it could not make a w<d 
of its own. It formed an attack upon a neiglfj 
bouring fortification with great vigour, and ai 
limt was at; vigorously repulsed. Not daunted 
however, with one defeat, in this manner il 
tinued to lay siege lo another's web for thro 
days, and at length, having killed the defendant 
actually took possession. When snialler fli 
happen to fall into the snare, the spider does n 
BAUy out at once, but very patiently waits till i 
is sure of them ; for, upon his immedjateljr a' ~ 
preaching, the terror of his appearance mighi 
give the captive strength sufficient to get loosei 
the manner then is to wait patiently, till, b 
ineffectual and impotent struggles, the captive hi 
wasted all its strength, and then he becomes'! 
certain and an easy conquest. -1 

The insect I am now describing lived thrd 
years ; every year it changed its skin, and got : 
new set of lege. I have sometimes plucked o4 
a leg, which grew again in two or three dayi 



THE BEE 83 

At first it dreaded my approach to its web, but The 
at last it became so familiar as to take a Hy out Spidei 
of my hand, and, upon my touching any part of 
the web, would immediately leave its hole, pre- 
pared either for a defence or an attack. 

To complete this description, it may be ob- 
lerved, that the male apidcra are much less than 
the females, and that the latter are oviparous. 
When they come to lay, they spread a part of 
their web under the eggs, and then roll them up 
carefully, as we roll up thingE in a cloth, atid 
thus hatch them in their hole. If disturbed m 
iheir holes, they never attempt to escape without 
carrying tliis young brood in their forceps away 
with them, and thus frequently are sacrificed to 
their parental affection. 

i soon as ever the young ones leave their 
Wtilicial covering, they begin to spin, and almost 
aisibly seem to grow bigger. If they have the 
ood fortune, when even but a day old, to catch 
I tly, they fall-to with good appetites ; but they 
live somctimeB three or four days without any 
sort of sustenance, and yet still continue to grow 
larger, so as every ilay to double their former 
As tJiey grow old, however, they do not 
:ontinue to increase, but their legs only con- 
tinue to grow longer ; and when 3 spider becomes 
entirely stiff with age, and unable to seize its 
■, it dies at length of hunger. 



84 THE BEE 

^ The Characteristics of Greatness 

In every duty, in every science in which we 
would wish to arrive at perfection, wc should 
propose for the objeci of our pursuit some certain 
Btation even Ijeyond our abilities— some imagin-- 
ary excellence, which may amuse and serve to 
animate our inquiry. In deviating from othera, 
in following an unbeaten road, though we per* 
haps may never arrive at the wiahed-for object|. 
yet it is possible we may meet several discoveries 
by the way ; and the certainty of small advaD-^ 
tages, even while we travel with security, is not 
so amusing as the hopes of great rewards, whicli 
inspire the adventurer. Evcn'tl noimunquam. Gays 
Quiutilian, ut aliquid grandc in-vetiiat qui i 
quierit quod nimium isl. 

This eoterprislog spirit is, however, by no 
means the character of the present age ; every 
person who should now leave received opinionii 
who should attempt to be more than a commen- 
tator upon philosophy, or an imitator in polite 
learning, might be regarded as a chimerical pro* 
jecior. Hundreds would be ready not only » 
point out his errors, but to load him with re«< 
proach. Our probable opinions are now regarded 
as certainties ; the difficulties hitherto undiai 
covered as utterly inscrutable ; and the writ 
the last age inimitable, and therefore the propcrei^ 
models of imitation. 

One might be almost induced to deplore thf 
philosophic spirit of the age, whicli, in propor- 
tion as it enlightens the mind, increases i 



THE BEE 

dmidity, and represses tlie vigour of every of Gi 
undertaking. Men are now content with being 
prudently in the right ; which, though not the 
way to make new acquisitions, it must be owned, 
is the best method of securing what we have. 
Yei this is certain, that the writer who never 
deviates, who never hazards a new thought, or a 
new expreesioQ, though his iriends may compli- 
ment him upon his sagacity, though criticism 
lifts her feeble voice in his praise, will seldom 
arrive at any degree of perfection. The way to 
acquire lasting esteem, is not by the fewness of a 
writer's ftiults, but the greatness of his beauties ; 
and our noblest works are generally most replete 
with both. 

An author who would be sublime, often runs 
hie thoughts into burlesque : yet I can readily 
pardon his mistaking ten times for once suc- 
ceeding. True genius walks along a line : and 
perhaps our greatest pleasure is in seeing It 
ED often near falling, without being ever actu- 
ally down. 

Every science has its hitherto undiscovered 
mysteries, after which men should travel, undis- 
couraged by thp failure of former adventurers. 
Every new attempt serves, perhaps, to facilitate 
its future invenuon. Wc may not find the 
Philosopher's stone, but we ihall probably hit 
upon new inventions in pursuing it. We shall 
perhaps never be able to discover the longitude, 
yet perhaps we may arrive at new truths in the 
investigaaon. 

Were any of those sagacious minds among 



1 



86 THE BEE 

^ ua (and surely no nation, or no period, ci 
^ ever conipre with uk in this particular), i 
any of tliose mimls, I aay, who now sit down 
contented with exploring the intricaciea of 
another's system, bravely to ahake off admira- 
tion, and, undazzled with the splendour of 
another's reputation, lo ehalk out a path to fame, 
for themselves, and boldly cultivate untried ex- 
periment, what might not be tlie result of their 
inquiries, should the «ame study that has made 
them wise make them enterprising also ? What 
could not such qualities united produce ? But 
such is not the character of the English ; while 
our neighbours of the Continent launch out 
the ocean of science, without proper store) 
the voyage, we fear shipwreck in every breeze, 
and consume in poit those powers which might 
probably have weathered every storm. 

Projectors in a state ate generally rewarded 
above their deserts j projectors In the republic 
of letters, never. If wrong, every inferior dunce 
thinks himself entitled to laugh at their dia-. 
appointment; if right, men of superior talents 
think their honour engaged to oppose, since. 
every new discovery is a tacit diminution of 
iheir own pre-eminence. 

To aim at excellence, our reputation, 
friends, and our all mu«t be ventured ; by aimiii^. 
only at mediocrity, we run no risk, and we do, 
little service. Prudence and greatness are eveir 
persuading us to contrary pursuits. The oiMii 
instructs us to be content witji our station, antt. 
to find happiness in bounding every wish j the, 



THE BEE 87 

other impels us to superority, and calls nothing of Great- 
happiness but rapture. The one directs to ^^^ 
follow mankind, and to act and think with the 
rest of the world : the other drives us from the 
crowd, and exposes us as a mark to all the 
shafb of envy or ignorance : " Nee minus 
periculum ex magna fama quam ex mala." — 
Tacit. 

The rewards of mediocrity are immediately 
paid, those attending excellence generally paid 
in reversion. In a word, the little mind who 
loves itself, will write and think with the vulgar, 
but the great mind will be bravely eccentric, and 
scorn the beaten road, from universal benevo^ : / 
lence. . M 



THE BEE. 

No, V. -SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1759., 

Upon Political Fhugality. 

PolitJcal "pltUGALITY has ever been esteemed ) 
Frugality -'- virtue aa well among Pagana as Chrietians 1 
there have been even heroes who have practiset 
it. However, we must acknowledge, that it ii 
too modest a virtue, or if you wiU, too obscurl 
a one, to be essential to heroism ; few herosi 
have been able to attain to auch an heighb 
Frugality agrees much better with politics! I 
seems to be the base, the support, and, in 1 
word, seems to be the inseparable companion a 

However this be, there is not, perhaps, in tlll 
world a people less fond of this virtue than tbi 
English ; and of consequence, there ia not t 
nation more restless, more exposed to the ud 
easineasea of life, or less capable of providing fo 
particular happiness. We are taught to despiM 
this virtue from our childhood; our edueatio) 
is improperly directed, and a man who has goot 
through the politest institutions, is generally th( 



THE BEE 

person who is leaet acquainted with the whole- PoUl 
some precepts of frugality, Wc ei-ery day P™K' 
hear the elegance of taste, the magnificence of 
saiae, and the generosity of others, made the 
subject of our admiration and applause. All 
this we see represented, not aa the end and 
recompense of labour and desert, but as the 
actual result of geniuK, as the mark of a noble 
and exalted mind. 

In the midet of these praises bestowed on 
luxury, for which elegance and laste are but 
another name, perhaps it may be thought im- 
proper to plead the cause of frugality. It may 
be thought low, or vainly declamatory, to 
exhort our youth from the follies of dress, and 
of every other hupertiuity ; to accustom thenw 
selves even with mechanic meanness, to the 
simple necessaries of life. Such sort of instruc- 
tions may appear antiquated ; yet, however, they 
seem the foundations of all our virtues, and the 
most eificacious method of making mankind 
useful members of society, UiUiappily, how- 
ever, such discourses are not fashionable among 
us, and the fashion seems every day growing 
still more obsolete, since the press, and every 
other method of exhortation, seems disposed to 
talk of the luxuries of life as harmless enjoy- 
ments, I remember, when a boy, to have 
remarked, that those who in school wore the 
finest clothes, were pointed at as being conceited 
and proud. At present, our little masters are 
tnught tu consider dress betimes, and they are 
regarded, even at school, with contempt, who 



«^| 



90 THE BEE 

Politicai da not appear ae genteel as the rest- Educa- 
tioa should teach ua to become useful, sober, 
disiDterested, and laborious members of society ; 
but does it Dot at present poiot out a different 
path ? It teaches us to multiply our wants, by 
which means we hecome more eager to possess, 
ID order to dissipate, a greater chaige to our- 
selves, and more useless or obnoxious to society. 
If a youth happens to be possessed of more 
genius than fortune, he is early itdbrnied, that he 
ought to think of his advancement in the world ; 
that he should labour to make himself pleasing 
to his superiors ; that he should shun low c 
patjy (by which is meant the company of liis 
equals), that he should rather live a little above 
tlan below his fortune ; that he should think of 
becoming great ; but he finds none to admonish 
him to become frugal, to persevere in one single 
design, to avoid every pleasure and all flattery, 
which however seeming to conciliate the favouri 
of his superiors, never conciliate their esteem. 
There are none to teach him that the best way 
of becoming happy in himself, and useful tc 
others, is to continue in the slate in which for- 
tune at first placed him, without making tot 
hasty strides to advancement ; that greatness 
may be attained, but should not be expected } 
and that they who most impatiently expect ad-^ 
vancement, are seldom possessed of their wishes;' 
He lias tew, I say, to teach him this lesson, oc 
to moderate his youthful passions ; yet, this ex-> 
perience may say, that a young man, who, but 
for six years of the early part of his life, could 



THE BEB 9< 

diveHtcd of all his paseions, would certainly Frugally 
■, or coaaiderahly increase, hia fortune, and 
might indulge several of his favourite inclinations 
' I manhood with the utmost security. 

The efficacioustJCSM of these means is suffi- 
iently tnown aitd acknowledged ; but as wc 
re apt to connect a tow idea with all our 
otions of frugality, the person who would 
persuade us to it might be accused of prcach- 
ip avarice. 

r all vices, however, against which morality 
dissuades, tliere is not one more undetermined. 
than this of avarice. Misers are deBcribed by 
as men divested of honour, sentiment, or 
humanity : but this is only an ideal picture, or 
the resemblance at least is found but in a few. In 
trutli, they who are generally called misers, are 
some of the very best memberi of society. The 
sober, the laborious, the attentive, the frugal, are 
thus styled by the gay, giddy, thoughtless, and 
extravngaat. The iirst set of men do society all 
good, and the latter all the evil, that is ielt. 
Even the excesses of the first no way injure the 
commonwealth ; those of the latter are the most 
injurious that can be conceived. 

The ancient Romans, more rational than wt 
this particular, were very far from thus mis- 
placing their admiration or praise : instead of 
regarding the practice of parsimony as low or 
vicious, they niiiJe it synonymous even with 
probity. Tliey esteemed those virtues so in- 
•eparahle, that the known expression f/V /rwjfj 
iiignilied, K one and the same time, a sober and 



9: THE BEE 

^Foliticsl managing man, an honest man, and a man of 
substance. 

The Scriptures, in a thousand places, praise 
economy ; and it is everywhere diBtinguished 
from avarice. But, in spite of all ite eacred 
dictates, a taste for vain pleaaurei and footith 
expense is the ruling passion of tlie present times. 
Passion, did I call it? rather tlie madness which 
at once possesses the great and the little, the rich 
and the poor ; even, some are so intent upon ac- 
quiring the superHuities of life, that they sacrifice 
its neceasaries in this foolish pursuit. 

To attempt the entire aboliuon of luxury, a& 
it would be iinposeiblc, so it is not my intenti 
The generality of mankind are coo weak, too 
much slaves to custom and opinion, to resist the 
torrent of bad example, fiut if it be impossible 
to convert the multitude, those who have receired 
a more extended education, who are enlightened 
and judicious, may lind some hints on this sub- 
ject useful. They may see some abuses, the 
sttpprcGsion of which would by no means en- 
danger public liberty ; they may be directed to 
the abolition of some unnecessa] y expenses, which 
have no tendency to promote happiness or virtue^ 
and which might be directed to better purposes. 
Our fu-e-worfcs, our public feasts and eotert^n- 
mente, our entries of ambassadors, Kc-^wha^ 
mummery all this I what childish pageants I wbaB 
millions are sacrificed in paying tribute to cua* 
torn ! what an unnecessary charge at times wheq 
we are pressed with real want, which cannot be 
Mtisfied without burdiening the poor ! 



THE BEE 93 

Were such suppressed entirely, not a single FniE«li^ 
creature in the state would have the least cause 
mourn their euppression, and many might be 
eased of a load they now feel lying heavily upon 
them. If this were put in practice, it would 
agree with the advice of a sensible writer of 
Sweden, who, in the Gax^tle de France, 1753, 
thus expressed himself on that subject : " II 
e sincerely to be wished," says he, " that the 
om were established amocgat us, that in all 
Its which cause a public joy, we made our 
exultations conspicuous only by acts useiul to 
society. We should then quickly see many use- 
ful monuments of our reason, which would much 
better perpetuate the memory of things worthy 
of being trarumitted to posterity, and would Be 
giucli more glorious to humanity, than all these 
tumultuous preparationB of feasts, entertainments, 
and other rejoicings used upon such occasions." 
The same proposal was long before confirmed 
by a Chinese emperor, who lived in the last 
century, who, upon an occasion of extraordinary 
joy, forbade his subjects to make the usual illu- 
minations, either with a design of sparing their 
substance, or of turnbg them to some more dur- 
able iodicadons of joy, moie glorious for him, 
and more advantageous to his people. 

After such instances of political frugality, can 
ve then continue to blame the Dutch ambassador 
:t a certain cciurt, who, receiving at his departure 
the portrait of the king, enriched with diamonds, 
asked what this fine tiling might be worth? 
Being lotd that it might amount 10 about two 



Political thousund pounds,—" And why," cries lie, " 

not hh majesty keep the picture, and give me tha 
money?'' Ihis simplicity may be ridiculed a 
first : but When we come to examine it more 



closely, men of senee will at once confess that 
he had reaEoa in what he said, and that a purse 
of two thousand guineas is much more serviceable 
than a. picture. 

Should we follow the same method of state 
frugality in other respects, what numberless s 
ings might not be the result ! How many poa- 
BibiiiticF of saving in the administration of justice; 
which DOW burdens the subject, and eariches 
some members of society, who are useful only 
ftom its corruption ! 

It were to be wiahed, that they who govern 
kingdoms would imitate artizans. When ; 
London a new stuff lias been invented, it is in 
mediately counterfeited in France. How happy 
were it for society, if a first minister would he 
equally solicitous to transplant the usefiU laws of 
other countries into his own. We are arrived 
at 3 perfect imitation of porcelain ; let us e 
deavour to imitate the good to society that c 
neighboars are found to practise, and let c 
n^ghbours also imitate those parts of duty u| 
which we excel. 

There are some men, who, in their garden 
tempt to raise those fruits which nature has adapted 
only to the sultry climates beneath the line. We 
have at our very doors a thousand laws and cuctonu 
infinitely useful ; these are tlie fruits we should 
endeavour to transplant; these the exotics that 



THE BEE 95 

would speedily become Daturalized to the soil. 
They might grow in every climate, and benefit 
every possessor. 

The best and the most useful laws I have ever 
Been, are generally practised in Holland. When 
two men are determined to go to law with each 
other, they are first obliged to go before the rc- 

acQing judges, called the peace-makers. If the 
parues come attended with an advocate, or a soli' 
citor, they are obliged to retire, as we take fuel 
from the fire we are desirous of extinguishing. 

The peace-makers then begin advising the 
parties, by assuring them that it is the height of 
folly to waste their substance, and make them- 
es mutually miserable, by having recourKe to 
jibunals of justice ; " Follow but our direc- 
tion, and we will accommodate matters without 
any expense to either." If the rage of debate is 
too strong upon cither party, they are remitted 
back for another day, in order that time may 
■often their tempers, and produce a reconciliation. 
They arc thus sent for twice or thrice; if their 
folly liappens to be incurable, they are permitted 
to go to law, and, as we give up to amputation 
such members as cannot be cured by art, justice 
'iB permitted to take its course. 

It is unnecessary to make here long dedama- 
tioQI, or calculate what society would save, were 
this law adopted. I am sensible, that the man 
who advises any reformation, only serves to make 
himself ridiculous. What ! mankind will be apt 
to say, adopt the customs of countries that have 

)t 80 much real liberty as our own I — our present 



96 THE BEE 

Politicai cufjKims, what are they to any man ; we are 

happy under them ! This muet be a very pleasant 
fellow, who attempts to make us happier than we 
already are ! Does he not know that abuses are 
thepatrimony of a great part of the nation? Why 
deprive us of a malady by which such DumberB 
find their account ? This, I must own, ii 
argument to which I have noiliing to reply. 

What numberless savingo might there no 
made in both arts and commerce, particularly in 
the liberty of exercising trade, without the neces- 
sary prerequisites of freedom ! Such useless ob- 
structions have crept into every state, Jrom a spirit 
of monopoly, a narrow selfish spirit of gain, with- 
out the feast attention to general society. Such 
a clog upon industry frequently drives the poor 
fi'om labour, and reduces them by degrees to 
state of hopeless indigence. We have already 
more than sufficient repugnance to labour ; w 
should by no means increase the obstacles, or make 
excuses in a state for idleness. Such faults hav< 
ever crept into a state, under wrong or needy ad- 
ministrations. 

Exclusive of the masters, there are ouniberless 
faulty expenses among the workmen ; clubs, gar- 
nishes, freedoms, and such-like impositions, whiclt 
are not too minute even for law to take notice of^ 
and which should be abolished without merc^. 
since they are ever the inlets to excess and idlcw 
ness, and are the parent of all thone outrages which; 
naturally fall upon the more useful part of society. 
In the towns and countries I have seen, I nevej 
saw a city or village yet, whose miseries were noi 



THE BEE 97 

>|iOrtion to the nuBiber ot its (jublic-hoiuea, Fiitg«ll 
Id RottercUni, you may go through eight or ten 
streets without finding a public-house. In Ant- 
werp, almost every second house seems an ale- 
house. Ip the one city, all wears the appearnnce 
of happiness and warm affluence ; in die other, 
the young fellowB walk, about the streets In shabby 
finery, their fathers sit at the door darning or 
luutdng stockings, while their ports are filled with 
dung hills. 

Alehouses are ever an occasion of debauchery 
and excess, and, either in a religious or |)oIiticBl 
light, it would be our highest interest to have 
the greatest pait of ibem suppressed. They 
should be put under laws of not continuing open 
beyond a certain hour, and harbouring only 
proper persons. These rules, it may be said, 
will diminish the necessary taxes ; but this is 
false reasoning, since what was consumed in 
debauchery abroad, would, if such a regulation 
took place, be more justly, and perhaps more 
equitably for the workman's family, spent at 
home ; and this cheaper to them, and without 
loss of time. On the other hand, our alehouses 
being erer open, interrupt business ; the worlt- 
man is never certain who frequents them, nor 
can the master be sure of having what WM 
begun iinishcd at the conrenient time. 

An habit of frugality among the lower orderB 
of mankind is much more beneficial to society 
than the unrellecting might imagine. The 
pawnbroker, the attorney, and other pests o( 
society, might, by proper management, be turnwl 



98 THE BEE 

[.PoliticAl into serviceable memberB; and, were their trades 
abolished, it is possible the sam 
conducts the one, or the same chicanery that 
characteriBcH the other, might, by proper regula- 
tions, be concerted into frugality and commend- 
able prudence. 

But BOme have made the eulogium of luxury^ 
h»ve represented it as the natural consequence 
of every country that is become rich. Did we 
not employ our extraordinary wealth in auper-' 
fluitie*, say they, what other means wodd there 
be to employ it in ? To which it may be 
answered, if frugality were established i "' ' 
stale, if our expenses were laid out rather in the 
necessaries than the superfluities of life, there 
might be fewer waniB, and even fewer plcaBurcs, 
bat infinitely more happiness. The rich and 
the great would be better able lo satisfy their 
creditors; they would be better able to marry 
their children, and, instead of one marriage ai> 
present, there mi(;lit be two, if nueh n 
took place. 

The imaginary calls of vanity, which, ia' 
reality, contribute nothing to oui real felicity,' 
would not then be attended to, while the real 
Cflllfi of nature might be always and universally 
supplied. The difference of employment in the* 
subject is what, in reality, produces the good o^ 
(ociety. If the subject be engaged in providing. 
only the luxuries, the neceKaiies must be delicieoti 
in proportion. If, neglecting the produce of our 
own country, our minds are set upon the pro*! 
ductions of another, we increase r 



THE BEE 99 

tx)t our means ; and every new imported delicacy Progf^ih 
for our tables, or ornament in our equ!]fage, ia a ■ 

tax upon the poor. 

The true interest of every government is to 
cultivate the oecessaries, by which is always 
meant, every happineai our own country can 
grroduce ; and suppress all tbe luxuries, by which 
is meant, on the other hand, every happmees 
imported from abroad. Commerce has, there- 
fore, its bounds ; and every new import, instead 
of receiving encouragement, should be first ex- 
amined whether it be conducive to the interest 
of society. 

Among the many publications with which the 
press ia every day buithened, I have often 
wondered why we never had, as in other 
countries, an Economical Journal, which might 
at once direct to all the useful discoveries in 
other countriei, and spread those of our own. 
As other journals serve to amuse the learned, or, 
what is more often the case, to make them 
quarrel, while they only serve to give us the 
history of the mischievous world, for so I call 
our warriors, or the idle world, for so may the 
learned be called, they never trouble their heads 
about the most useful part of mankind, our 
peasants and our artizans. Were such a work 
carried into execution, with proper management 
and ju« direction, it might serve as a repository 
for every useful improvement, and increase that 
knowledge which learning often serves to con- 
Sweden seems the only country where the 



100 THE BEE 

caj science of economy seems to have lixed i 
''^? empire. In other counirieB, it is cultivated on 
by a few admirers, or by societies which have 
not received sufficient sanction to become com- 
pletely useful i but here there ia founded 3 RoyJ 
Academy, destined to this purpose only, com- 
posed of the most learned and powerfiJ memberH 
ofthest^te; on academy which declines every- 
thing which only terminates in amusement/ 
erudition, or curiosity, and admits only of obser- 
vations tending to lUustrate husbandry, agricul- 
ture, and every real physical improvement. In 
this country, nothing is left to private rapacity, 
but every improvement is immediately ditFused, 
and its inventor immediately recompensed by tli^ 
Btflte. Happy were it so in other counn' 
By this means, every impostor would be pr&i 
vented from ruining or deceiving the public with 
{tt'etended discoveries or nostrums, and every 
real inventor would not, by this means, suffer 
the inconveniences of suspicion. 

In short, true economy, equally anknowo 
to the prodigal and avai'icious, seems to be a just! 
mean between both extremes ; and to a trans- 
gression of this at present decried virtue 
that we are to attribute a great part of the evils 
which infest society. A taste for euperliuity, 
amusement, and pleasure brings effeminacy, idle- 
ness, and expense in their train. But a thirst of 
riches is always proportioned to our debauchery,' 
and the greatest prodigal is too frequently found 
to be the greatest miser ; so that the vices whicb 
aeem the most opposite, are frequently found to 






THE BEE 



each olher ; and, ■ 
only necesrary to be frogal. 



> avoid both, it u A 



A Reverie. 

Scarce a^ day paaacB in wbich we da not heai' 
codiplinieDts paid to Dryden, Pope, and other 
writers of the lact age, while not a monih cornea 
Torward that is not loaded with invective agaioBE 
the writers of thia. Strange, that oar critics 
should be fond of giving their favours to those 
who are insensible of the obligation, and their 
dislike to these who, of ail mankind, arc most 
apt to retaliate the injury. 

Even tliough our present writers had not equal 
merit with their predecessors, it woidd be politic 
to use them with ceremony, livery compliment 
paid theim would be more agreeaUe, in propor- 
tion as chey least deserved it. Tell a lady with 
a handsome tacc that she is pretty, she only 
thinks it her due ; it is what she has heard a 
thousand umett before from others, and disregards 
the compliment; but assure a lady, the cut of 
whose visage is something more plain, that she 
looks killing to-day, she instantly bridles up, 
and fwls the force of the well-timed flattery the 
whole day after. CompiimentK which we think 
are denerved we only accept as debts, with in- 
dtiforence j but those which conscieDce inibrmt 



101 THE BEB 

A ue we do not merit, we receive with the same 
Rertnt gratitude tliat we do favotu-e given away. 

Our geatleraen, however, who preside at tt 
distribution of literary fame, seem resolved I 
part with praiae neither from motives of Juatit 
or generosity ; one would think, when they take 
pen in hand, that it was only to blot reputations, 
and to put their seals to the packet which con- 
signs every aew-boro effort to oblivion. 

Yet, notwithstanding the republic of letters 
hangs at present so feebly together ; though those 
friendshipa which once promoted literary ferae 
seem now to be discontinued ', though every 
writer who now draws the quill seems to aii 
prolit, as well as applause, many among them are 
probably laying in stores for immortality, and 
are provided with a sufficient stock of reputation 
to last the whole journey. 

As I was indulging these reflections, in order 
to eke out the present page, I could not av 
pursuing the metaphor ot going a journey in 
imaginMion, and formed the following Revc 
too wild for allegory, and too regular fo. 
dream :^ 

T (ancied myself placed in the yard of a large' 
'ma, in which there were an infinite number oi- 
waggons and stage-coaches, attended by fellowt | 
who either invitrd the company to take their- 
places, or were busied in packing their baggage. 
Each vehicle had its inscription, iihowing the- 
place of its destin.ition. On one T could rcad(~i 
" The Pleasure Stage Coach " ; on another^ 
"The Waggon of Industry " ; on a thirds- 



q 



THE BEE 10} 

" The Vanity Whim " ; and on a fonrth, " The 
Landau of Riches." I had some inclination to 
seep into each of diese, one after another ; but, 
1 know not by what means, I passed ihem by, 
and at lasi Jixed my eye upon a small carriage, 
Berlin fashion, which seemed the most convenient 
Tchicle at a diBiance in the world ; and, Upon 
my nearer approach, found it to be " The Fame 
Machine." 

I iDstandy made np to the coachman, whom 1 
fouod to be an affable and seemingly good- 
natured fellow. He informed me, that he had 
but a few days ago returned from the Temple of 
Fame, to which he had been carrying Addi* 
soft, Swift, Pope, Steele, Congreve, and CoUey 
Cibbcr ; that they made but indifferent company 
by the way ; and that he once or twice was 
going to empty his bcrlin of ilie whole cargo t 
"however," says he, " 1 got them all safe home, 
with no other damage than a hlack eye, which 
CoUey gave Mr Pope, and &ra now returned for 
another coachful." — "If that be ail, frknd," 
said T, *' and if you are in want of company, I'll 
make one with all my heart. Open the door ; 
I hope the machine rides easy," — " Oh, for 
that. Sir, extremely easy." But, still keeping 
the door shut, and measuring me with his eye, 
"Pray, Sir, have you no luggage? You f.'tn 
to be a good-natured sort of a gentleman : b ; I 
don't tind yea have got iiny luggage, and I never 
pcnnti wiy to travel with mc but such at have 
•om^ing valuable to pay for coach hire." 
Examining my pockets, I own I wat aot a little 



104 THE BEE 

A diBcoBCcrted ai this unexpected rebuff; but ci 
ftevene sidering that I carried a number of the Bee under 
my arm, I was resolved to open it in hia eyes, 
and dazzle bim witb the spiendour o( the page. 
He read the title and contents, however, without 
any emotion, and assured me be had never heard 
of it before. " In short, friend," said he, n 
losing all his former respect, " you must i 
come in : I expect better passengers ; but as j 
seem a harmless creature, perhaps, if there be 
room left, I may let you ride awhile for charity." 
I now took my stand by the coachman at the 
door ; and since I could not command a s 
was resolved to be as useful as possible, and t 
by my assiduity what I could not by my meri 

The next that presented for a place was a 

moat whimsical figure indeed. He was hi 

round with papers of his own composing, ; 

unJilce those who sing ballads in the streets, i 

came dancing up to the door with all the c( 

lidence of instant admittance. The volubility of 

his motioa and address prevented my being able 

I to read more of his cargo than the word ' In- 

H spector,' which was written in great letters at 

H the top of some of the papers. He opened the 

H coach-door himself without any ceremony, and 

H was just slipping in, when the coachman, witb 

H as little ceremony, pulled him back. Our figore 

^M eeemed perfectly angry at this repulse, and de^ 

^m manded gentleman's satisfaction. "Lord, Sir !" 

^B replied the coachman, "instead of proper lug- 

H gsge, by your bulk you seem loaded for a West- 

^^ India voyage. You are big enough, with all 

■k » 



^P" pap 

Excuae rr 



THE BBE 



papers, to crack twenty gtage-coaciieB, A 
xcuae me, indeed, Sir, lor you must not enter." "' 
r figure now ijcgan to espoatulate : he assured 
the coachman that though lus baggage seemed so 
bulky, it was perfectly light, and that he would 
be contented with the sraalJeat corner of room. 
But Jehu was inflexible, and the carrier of the 
Inspectors was sent to dance back again, with 
all his papers fluttering in the wind. We ex- 
pected to have no more trouble from this quarter, 
when, in a few minutes, the aame figure changed 
bin appearance, like harlequin upon the stage, 
with the same confidence again made his 
approaches, dressed in lace and carrying nothing 
3 noeegay. Upon coming near, he thrust 
losegay to the coachman's nose, grasped the 
1, and seemed now resolved to enter by 
violence. I found the struggle soon begin to 
grow hot, and the coachman, who was a little 
old, unable to continue the contest ; so, in order 
o ingratiate myself, 1 stept in to his assiKanc^ 
nd out united efforu sent otu' literary Protetn, 
though worsted, unconquered still, clear off", 
dancing a rigadoon, and smelling lo his own 
nosegay. 

The person who after him appeared as candi 
date for a place in the stage, came up with an air 
not quite so confident, but somewhat, however, 
theatrical ; and, instead of entering, made the 
coachman a very low bow, which the other re- 
turned, and desired to see his baggage; upon 
which he instantly produced some farces, a 
tiagedy, and other miscellany productions. The 



Renrtt 



io« THE BEE 

A coachman, casting hia eye upon the cargo, assured 
Hevene him, at present he could not possibly have a 
place, but hoped in time he might aspire la 
one, as he Beemed to have read in the book of 
nacure, without a cnret^d perusal of which n 
ever found entrance at the Temple of Fame, 
" What ! " replied the disappointed poet, " shdl 
my tragedy, in which I have vindicated the cauM 
of liberty and virtue !— — " " Follow aalure," 
returned the other, " and never expect to fin<J 
lasting fame by topics which only please Irom 
their popularity. Had you been first in the 
cause of freedom, or praieed in virtoe more than 
an empty name, it is poaaible yon might have 
guned admittance ; but at present I beg, Sir, you 
will stand aside for anothei' gentleman whom i 
see approaching." 

This was a very grave jiecsonage, whom it 
some distance I look for oik of the moat reserved 
and even disagreeable figures I had seen ; but a 
be appi'oached, his appearance improved, an 
when I could diGdnguish him thoroughly, I pepJ* 
ceived that, in spite of the severity of his broVj 
be bad one of the most good-natured connteo^ 
ances that could be imagined. Upon comtag I 
open the stage door, he lifted a parcel of mt 
into the seat before him, but our inquisiti^ii 
coachman at once shoved ihem out agall 
" What ! not tike in my Dictionary ? " cS! 
clamed the other in a rage. " Be patient. Sir," 
ixpLied the coachman, " 1 ha^'c drove a c( 
man and boy, these two thouMsd years ; but I' 
' lember to have carried above one" 



L 



TRB BEE 107 



dicUonary during the whole time. That Utile A 
book which I perceive peeping from one of your Rererfl 
'poclieCQ, may I presume to aak. what it contains i " 
— " A mere trifle," replied the author ; " it is 
called the Rainbler." — '^The Rambler!" says 
the coachman, " I beg. Sir, you'll take your 
place ; I have heard our iadies in the court of 
Apollo frequently mention it with rapture ; and 
CUo, who happens to be a little grave, has been 
heard to yteSev it to the Spr^latori though others 
have observed, that the reflections, by being 
refined, somelimeB become 



1 



ThiB grave gentleman was scarce seated, when 
another, whoac appearance was something more 
modern, seemed willing to enter, yet afraid to 
ask. He carried in his hand a bundle of essays, 
oi which the coachman was curious enough to 
inquire the contents. " These," replied die 
gentleman, " ore rhapsodies against the religion 
of my country ."1 — " And how can you expect 
to come into my coach, after thus choosing the 
wrong side of the question i " — -" Ay, but f am 
right," replied the other ; " and if you give me 
leave, I shaJI, io a few minutes, state the argu- 
ment." — " Right or wrong," said the coachman, 
" he who disturbs religion is a blockhead, and 
he shall never travel in a coach of mine." — " If, 
then," said the gentleman, mustering up all his 
courage, " if I am not 10 have admittance as an 
essayist, I hope I shall not be repulsed a8 an 
liisiurijin ; the last volume of my history met 
with applause." — " Yn," replied the coachman, 
'* but i have heard only the lirst approved at the 



loS THB BBS I 

A Temple of Fame ; arid as I see yoa fiave it aboub n 
S"*"* you, enter, witliout farther ceremony." My 1 
attention wae now diverted to a crowd who were 1 
jiushing forward a person that seemed more in- | 
cHned to the Stage-coacli of Riches ; but by I 
their mease he was driven forward to the " Fame I 
Machine," which he, however, seemed heartily | 
to despise. Impelled, however, by their solicits- I 
tiona, he steps tip, flourishing a voluminous faia« | 
wry, and demanding admittance. " Sir, I hav* I 
formerly heard your name mentioned," aaya the \ 
coachman, "but never as au historian. Is there 
no other work upon which you may claim a 
place ! " — " None," replied the other, " except 
a romance ; but this is a work of too trifling a 
nature to claim future attention." — "You mis- j 
take," says the inquisitor, " a well-written' | 
romance is no such easy task as is generally I 
imagined. I remember formerly to have carried I 
Cervantes and Segrais ; and if you think fit, you-1 

Upon our three literary travel'ers coming int* I 
he same coach, I listened attentively to hear' I 
what might be the conversation that passed upon I 
this extraordinary occasion ; when, instead of J 
agreeable or entertaining dialogue, I found them' I 
grumbling at each other, and each seemed discoo-! I 
tented with his companions. Strange! thought I 
I to myself, that they who are thus born to I 
etilighten the world, should still preserve the J 
narrow prejudices of childhood, and, by dig- I 
agreeing, make even the highest merit ridiculous. | 
Were the learned and the wise to unite i^ainat d 



THE BEE t09 

dunces of society, instead of sometimes siding ' Higb 
I opposite parties with them, they might throw j™* 
a lustre upon each other's reputation, and teach g^,,' 
every rank of subordinate merit, if not to admire, 
least not to avow dislike. 

In the midst of these reflections, I perceived 
the coachman, unmindful of me, liad now mounted 
the box. Several were approaching to be taken 
in, whose pretensions, 1 was sensible, were very 
mt ; I therefore desired him to stop, and take 
lore passengers : but he replied, as he had 
mounted the box, it would be improper to 
come down ; but that he should take them all, 
after the other, when he should return. So 
he drove away ; and for myself, as I could not 
get in, I mouDied behind, in order to hear the 
the way. 



A Word ok Two on the i.ate Farce called 
" High Life Below Stairs." 

Just as I had expected, before 1 saw thia 
farce, 1 foond it formed on too narrow a plan to 
afford a pleasing variety. The sameness of the 
humour in vvery scene could nut at last faW of 
being disagreeable. The poor affecting the 
manners of the rich might be carried on through 
character, or two at the most, with great 
propriety i but to have almost every personage oo 
the scene almost of the same character, and re- 
flecting the follies of each other, was unartful in 
the poet to the last degree. 



no THE BEE 

'High The scene was also almost a continuanon of 
^"' the same absurdity ; and my Lord Duke and 
-^"^Sif Harry {two footmen who assume these 
characters) have nothing else to do but to talk 
like their masters, and are only introduced I 
speak, and to show tliemselres. Thus, as. there 
Is a sameness of character, there is a barrenncBS 
of incident, which, by a very small share of 
address, the poet might have easily avoided. 

From a conformity to critic rules, which, 
perhaps, on the whole, have done more harm 
than good, our author has sacrificed oil the 
vivacity of the dialogue to nature ; and though 
he makes his characters talk .like servant!, they 
are seldom absurd enough, or lively enougk t 
make us merry. Though he is always natural, 
he happens seldom to be humorous. 

The satire was well intended, if we regard it 
as bebg masters oureelves ; but probably a philo- 
Eopher would rejoice in that liberty which 
Englishmea give their domestics ; and for my own 
part, I cannot avoid being pleased at the happi~ 
ness of those poor creatures, who, in some 
measure, contribute to mine. The Athenians, 
the politest and best-natured people upon eanh, 
were the kindest to their slaves ; and if a persoo 
may judge, who has seen the world, our English 
servants are the best treated, because the gener- 
ality of our English gentlemen are the politf 
under the sun. 

But, not CO lift my feeble voice among the 
pack of critics, who, probably, have no other 
occupation but that of cutting up everything ni 



THE BEE 



nd sufficiently humorous; particularly ?f .. 
the firai interview between the two foouneo, *" 



which at once ridicules the manners of the 
great, and the absurdity of their imitators. 

defects there might be in the com- 
position, there were none in the action : in this 
the performers showed more humour than I had 
fancied them capable of. Mr Palmer and Mr 
King were entirely what they desired to repre- 
sent; and Mrs Clive— {but what need I talk of 
her, aince, without the least exaggeration, ehe 
has more true humour than any actor or actress 
upon the English or any other stage 1 have seen) 
— she, I uiy, did the part all the justice it was 
capable of. And, upon the whole, a farce, 
which has only this to recommend it, thut the 
author toot: his plan from the volume of nature, 
by the sprightly manner in which it was per- 
formed, was, for one night, a tolerable entertain- 
meot. This much may be said hi its Tindicatioff, 
that people of fashion seemed more pleased in 
the representation than the aubordbate ranks of 
people. 



Upon U, 



Mer 



_,. _isppy tl 

is born excellent rn the pursuit in vogue, and 



EvERV a; 
which Bern 



wtwae genius seems adapted 
How many do we SC' 



o the times he lives 
, who might have 



Ill THE BEE 

Unfortu- excelled in arts or sciences, and who seem 
iaXt furnislied with talents equal to the greatest dis- 
coTeries, had the road not been already beaten 
by their predecessors, and nothing left for them 
except trifles to discover, while others of very 
moderate abilities become famous, because hap- 
pening to be lirsc in the reigning pureuit. 

Thus, at the renewal of letters in Europe, the 
laste was not to compose new books, but td 
comment on the oid ones. It was ) 
expected that new books should be written, when 
there were so many of the ancients either ruA 
known or not understood. It was not reasonable 
to attempt new conquests, while tliey had sucfar 
an extensive region lying waste for want of culti- 
vation. At that period, criticism and erudition 
were the reigning studies of the times ; and be 
who had only an inventive genius, might have 
languished in hopeless obscurity. When tbtf 
writers of antiquity were sufficiently explains " 
and known, the learned set about imitatin 
them : from hence proceeded the Dumber t 
Latin orators, poets, and historians, m ilie reign 
of Clement the Seventh and Alexander tha 
Sixth. This pnssion for antiquity lasted foE 
many years, to the utter exclusion of every otlief 
pursuit, till some began to find, that those worki 
which were imitated from nature, were more lik 
the writings of amiquity, than even those wriiM 
in express imitation. It was then modem lai 
guage began to be cultivated with assiduity, a 
our poets and orators poured forth their n 
u^n the world. 




THE BEE 



become more numerous, it is natu- Merit 
ral for readers to become more indolent ; from 
whence must necesearily ariec a desire of attain- 
ig knowledge with the greatest possible ease, 
lo science or art offers its inEtruction and 
[nusement in so obvious a manner as statuary 
and painting. From hence we see, tliat a desire 
of cultivating those arts generally attends the 
deeline of science. Thus the finest statues and 
the most beautiful paintings of antiquity preceded 
le the absolute decay of every other 
The statues of Antoninus, Commodus, 
and other contemporaries, are the finest produc- 
tions of the chisel, and appeared but just before 
learning was destroyed by comment, criticism, 
and barbarous invasionG. 

What happened in Rome may probably be the 
case with us at home. Our nobility are now 
more solicitous in patronising painters and sculp- 
tors than those of any other polite profession; 
and from the lord, who has his gallery, down to 
the "prentice, who ban his twopenny copper- 

Elatc, all are admirers of this art. The great, 
y their caresses, seem insensible to ail other 
merit but tliai of the pencil ; and the vulgar buy 
every book rather from the excellence of the 
sculptor than the writer. 

How happy were it cow, if men of real 
excellence in that profession were to arise I 
Were the painters of Italy now to appear, who 
once wandered like beggars from one city to 
another, and produced their almost breathiog 
liguresi what rewards might they not expect! 



B^ 



114 THE BEE 

Uofortu- But many of them lived without rewards, and 
nate therefore rewards alone will never produce their 
equals. We have often found the great exert 
themselves, not only without promotion, but in 
spite of opposition. We have often found iheeoi 
flourishing, like medicinal plants, in a region o£ 
savageness and barbarity, their excellence i 
known, and their virtues unheeded. 

They who have seen the paintings of Cara^ 
vaggio, are sensible of the Burprising impression 
they make ; bold, swelling, terrible to the laslt 
degree, — all eeems animated, and speak I ' 
among the foremost of his profession ; yet thif, 
man's fortune and his fame seemed ever in opposi*, 
tion to each other. 

Unknowing how to flatter the great, he t 
driven from city to city in the utmost indigence, 
and might truly be said to paint for his^ 
bread. 

Having one day insulted a person of distinction,! 
who refused to pay him al! the respect which he> 
thought his due, he was obliged to leave Rome,* 
and travel on foot, his usual method of going hift 
joutDeys down into the eountiy, without eitherj 
money or friends to subsist him. 

After he had travelled in this manner as 
as his strength would permit, faint with faminei 
and fatigue, he at last called at on obacure in 
the wayside. The host knew, by the appearancfe 
of his guest, his indifferent circumstancei, rnS 
refuted to furnish him a dinner without previou« 
payment* 

As Caravaggio was entirely destitute of moneys 



THE BEE 115 

he took down the innkeeper's sign, and painted Merit 
it anew for his dinner. 

Thus refreshed, he proceeded on his journey, 
and left the innkeeper not quite satisfied with tins 
method of payment. Some company of distinc- 
tion, however, coming soon after, and struck with 
the beauty of the new sign, bought it at an ad- 
vanced price, and astonished the innkeeper with 
their generosity $ he was resolved, therefore, to 
get as many signs as possible drawn by the same 
artist, as he found he could sell them to good ad- 
vantage ; and accordingly set out after Cara- 
vaggio, in order to bring him back. It was 
nightfall before he came up to the place where 
the unfortunate Caravaggio lay de^d by the road<* , 
side* overcome by fatigue, reseatment, and despair. 



Na VI.— SATURDAY, NOVEMBER lo, 1759. 



To the ylalhar of I hi Bcc. 

On Edu cm. — -As few subjects are more interesting to' 
society, bo few have been more freqoently 
written upon, than the education of youth. Yet 
it is a little surpriBing, that it has been treated 
almost by all in a declamatory manner. They 
have insisted largely oa the advantages that result 
from it, both to individuals and to society ; aad 
have expatiated in the praise of what none have 
ever been so hardy aa to call in question. 

Instead of giving ua fine but empty harangues 
upon this subject, instead of indulging each his 
particular and whimsical systeras, it had been 
much better if the writers on this subject had 
treated it in a more scientiiic manner, repressed 
all the sallies of imagination, and given us the 
result of their observations with didacdc simpli- 
city. Upon this subject the smallest errors are 
of the most dangerous consequence ; and the 
author should venture the imputation of stupidity 




THE BEE 117 

'jl'topk where his dightesi deviations may Oii,E44l 
tend to injure posterity. However, guch are ^*'""' 
the whimsical and erroneous productions written 
upon this subject. Their aciliorB have studied 10 
be uncommun, not to be just ; and, at present, we 
want a treatise upon education, not to tell us any- 
thing new, but to explode the errors which have 
been introduced by the admirers oF novelty. It 
is in this manner books become numerous ; a - 
desire of novelty produces a book, and other 
books are ret^uired to destroy tliis producdon. 

The manner in which our youth of London 
are at present educated is, some in free-schools in 
the city, but the far greater number in boardings 
schools about town. The parent justly consults 
the health of his cliild, and linds an education in 
the country tends to promote this much more 
than a conttnuBnce in towo. Thus far he ic 
right : if tliere were a possibility of having even 
our free-schools kepi a little out of town, it would 
certainly conduce to the health and vigour of 
perhaps the mind as well tm the body. It may 
be thought whimsical, but it is truth, — I have 
found by experience, that they who have speDi 
all ilieir lives in cities, contract not only an 
effeminacy of habit, but even of thinking. 

But when I have said, that the boarding* 
schools are preferable to free-schools, as being in 
the country, this is certainly the only advantage 
I can allow them ; otlierwise it is inipossible to 
conceive the ignorance of those who take upon 
them the important trust of education. Is any 
mm unlit for nny of the professions, he ^nda his 



uS THE BEE 

On Edu- laat resource in setting up a achool. 
cation become bankrupts in trade, they stilJ s 

boariliDg-school, anti drive a trade this way, when' 
all others ftil : nay, I have been told of bntchere 
and barbers, who have turned echoolmastcra ; and, 
more surprising still, made fortunes in their new 

Could we think ourseivea in a country of 
civilised people^outd it be conceited that we 
have a regard for posterity, when such persoin 
are permitted to take the charge of the moralv 
genius, and health of those dear little pledges, 
who may one day be the guardians of the liberties 
of Europe, and who may serve as the honour and 
bulwark of their aged parents ! The care of our' 
children, is it below the state ^ is it tit to indulge' 
the caprice of the ignorant with the difljjosal of 
their children in this particular '. Por the start 
to take the charge of all its children, as in Perua^ 
or Sparta, might at present be ii 
surely, with great ease, it might cast an eye ta. 
their instructors. Of all professions in society^ 
I do not know a more useful, or a more honourl 
able one, than a schoolmaster ; at the same tin' 
that I do not see any more generally despised, ( 
men whose talents are so ill rewarded. 

Were the salaries of schoolmasters to be aug- 
mented from 8 diminution of useless sinecuresi 
how might it turn to the advantage of this people! 
— a people whom, without flattery, I may iq 
other respects term the wisest and greatest u 

k earth. But, while I would reward the deserving; 
I would dismiss those utterly unqualified for then 



THE BEE ti9 

employment ; in ghori, I would malie the busi- 
neris of a schoolmaster every way more respect- 
able, by increasing their salaries, and admittinj; 
only men of proper abilities. 

ve have already schoolmastera ap- 
pointed, and they have small salaries j but where 
at present there is only one schoolmaster ap- 
pointed, there should at least be two ; and 
wherever the salary is at present twenty pounda, 
it should be augmented to an hundred. Do we 
give immoderate benelices to our own instructors, 
aixl shall we deny even subsistence to those who 
instruct our children ? Every member of society 
should be paid in proportion as he is necessary : 
and I will be bold enough to say, that school- 
masters in a Slate are more iiecesaary than clergy- 
men, as children stand in more need of instruction 
than their parents. 

But, instead of this, as I have already observed, 
we send them to board in the country to the most 
ignorant set of men that can be imagined ; and, 
lest the ignorance of the master be not sufficient 
the child is generally consigned to the usher. 
This is commonly some poor needy animal, 
little superior to a footmen either in learning or 
spirit, invited to his place by an advertisement, 
and kept there merely from his being of a com- 
plying disposition, and making the children fond 
of him. '* Yon give your child to be educated 

," eay« a philosopher to a rich 
" inn^d of one slave, you will then have 

It were well, however, if parents, upon fixing 
their children in one of these houses, would 



J 



THE BEE 



c the abilidee of the uelier a» well as 
" master ; for, whatever ihey are told to the con- 
trary, the usher is generally the person mort 
employed in their education. If, then, a gentle- 
man, upon putting out his son to ooe of these 
houses, sees the ueher disregarded by the mastej^ 
he may depend upon it, that he is equally disre- 
garded by the boys : the truth is, in spite of all 
their endeavours to please, they are generally thp 
laughing-stock of the school. Every trick i, 
played upon the ushei' ( the oddity of his inannera, 
his dress, or his language, is a lijnd of eternal' 
ridicule ; the master himself, now and t]ie% 
cannot avoid joining in the laugh ; and the poor 
wretch, eternally resenting this ill-usage, seems to 
live in a state of war with all the family. ThiF 
is a very proper person, is it not, to give childrel' 
a relish for learning ? They must esteem learninr 
very much, when they see its professors used 
with such ceremony. If tlie usher be despieedf. 
the father may be assured liis child will nei 
properly instructed. 

But let me suppose, d\at there are som« 
schools without tiiese inconveniences, — wherft 
tJie masters and ushers are mea of learnings 
repuution, and assiduity. If there are to be 
found such, ihey cannot be prized in a state 
sufficiently. A boy will learn more true 
dom in a public school in a year, than by 4 
private education in live. It is not from masten, 
but from their etjuals, youth learn a knowledge cM 
the world : the liltle tricks they piay each other, 
the punishment tliat frequently attends the conn 



THE BEE 131 

raisaton, is a just picture of the great world ; and OnEdtu 
all the ways of men are practised in a public c**'"" 
tchool in miniature. It is true, a child ie early 
I made acquainted with »ome vices in a school ; 
t is better to know these when a boy, than 
be first taught them when a man, for their 

felty then may have irfesistible charms. 

In a public education boys early learn temper- 

;e J and if the parents and frienda would give 
them less money upon their UKual visits, it would 
be much to their advantage, since it may justly 
be said, that a great part of their disordn's arise 
from surfeit, — plot oceitlii guia quam gladius. 
And now I am come to the article of health, it 
may not be amiss (o observe, that Mr Locke, 
and some others, have advised, that children 
should be inured to cold, to fatigue, and hard- 
ship, from their youth ; but Mr Locke wae but 
an indiiferent physician. Habit, I grant, has 
great influence over our constitutions, but wc 
have not precise ideas upon this subject. 

We know, thai among savages, and even 
among our peasants, there are found children 
I with such constitutions, that they cross 
'8 by swimming, endure cold, thirst, hunger, 
want of sleep, to a surprising degree ; that 
when they happen to fall sick, they are cured, 
without the help of medicine, by nature alone- 
Such examples are adduced, to persuade us to 
imitate their manner of education, and accustom 
ourselves betimes to support tlic same fatigue*. 
But had these gentlemen considered, lirst, how 
many lives are lost in this nscetic discipline ; had 



r 



111 THE BEE 

On Edu- they considered that theee savages and peasant* 
cation are geaerallynot bo long lived as those who h 

led a more indolent life ; that the more laboriou* 
the life is, the less populous is the eounirjri 
had they considered, that what physicians cal 
the itamina liila, by fatigue and laboui' becoiHi 
rigid, and thus anticipate old age ; that t}^ 
numbers who survive those rude trials, bears t 

eoportion to those who die in the experiment 
ad these ttrings been properly considered, th» 
would not have thus extolled an education begin 
in fatigue and hardships. Peter the Great, wil' 
ling to inure the children of his seamen to' a liS 
of hardship, ordered that they should only drinll 
sea water, but they unfortunately all died undei 
the trial. 

But while I would exclude all ur 
labours, yet still I would recommend temperanc* 
in the highest degree. No luxurious disln 
with high seasoning, nothing given children t 
force an appetite, as little sugai'ed or salted proi 
visions as possible, though never so pleasing [ 
but milk, morning and night, should be thdj 
constant food. This diet would make t 
more healthy than any of those slops that a 
usually cooked by the mistress of a boarding' 
school ! besides, it corrects any con3umpti»( 
habits, not unfrequently found amongst the chil| 
dren ot city parents. 

As boys should be educated with temperance 
BO the first greatest lesson that should be taugb 
them is, to admire frugality. !l is by t' 
if this virtue alone, they can c 



THE BEE 12} 

expect to be useful members of society. It is On EAtti 
true, lectures continually repeated upon this cahon 
subject, may make some boys, when they grow 
up, run into an extreme, and become misers ; 
but it were well had we more misers than we 
: among us. I know few characters mor^ 
useful in society ; for a man's having a larger 
or smaller share of money lying useless by him, 
way injures the commonwealth ; since, should 
every miser now exhaust his stores, this might 
make gold more plenty, but it would not increnae 
the commodities or pleasures of life ; they would 
still remain as they are at present : it matters 
not, therefore, whether men are misers or not, 
it* they be only ^ugal, laborious, and fill the 
"jn they have chosen. If they deny them- 
's the necessaries of life, society is no way 
injured by their folly. 

Instead, therefore, of romances, whicli praise 
young men of spirit, who go through a variety 
of adventures, and, at last, conclude a life of 
dissipation, folly, nnd extravagance, in riches 
and matrimony, there should ht some men of 
: employed to compose books that might 
equally interest the passions of our youth ; 
where such a one might be praised for having 
resisted allurements when young, and how he, 
'aai, became Lord Mayor — how he was 
married to a lady of great sense, fortune, and 
beauty : lo be as explicit as possible, the old 
story of Whiitington, were his cat left out, 
might be more serviceable to the tender mind 
tlian either Tom Jones, .loseph Andrews, or a 



124 THE BEE 

I On EdH- hundred otiiers, where frugality is the only good 
"tiMi quality the hero in not posseseed of. Were o 
schoolraasiers, if any of than have sense enoug)) 
to draw up such a work, thus employed, ig 
would be much more serviceable lo their pflpil^ 
than all the grammars and dictionaries they r 
publish these ten years. 

Children should early be instructed in the ar^ 
from which they may afterwards draw timi 
grcat«Bi advantages. When the wonders i 
nature are never exposed lo our view, we hai^ 
no great desire to become acquainted with tho^d 
parts of learning which pretend to account foi 
the phenomena. One of tlie ancients complMnBi 
that as soon as young men have left school, ai 
are obliged to converse in the world, they fancy 
themselves transported into a new region : Ui 
rum in forum venerliil exUtiment se in aHin 
Urrariim orlem delatm. We should early, there- 
fore, instruct them in the csperiracnts, if I n 
BO express it, of knowledge, and leave to matu 
age the accounting for the causes. But, insteaf 
of that, when boys begin natural philosophy i | 
colleges, they have not the least curiosity fcg 
those parts of the science which are propose^ 
for their instruction; ihey have never befor] 
seen the phenomena, and consequently have a 
curiosity to learn the reasons. Might natura 
philosophy, therefore, be made their pastime if 
school, by this means it would in college bccoiqi 
their amusement. ^ 

In several of the machines t 
would be ample field both for i 



THE BEE tjs 

: the different eorta of the phos- On Edii- 
phorus, the artifieial pyrites, magnetism, dec- cation 
tticity, the experiments upon the rarefaction and 
weight of the air, and those upon elastic bodies, 
might employ their idle hours, and none should 
be called from play to see such experiments but 
such as thought proper. At first, then, it 
would be Eutlicient if the instruments, and the 
etFects of their combination, were only shown ; 

; causes should lie deferred to a maturer age, 

to those times when naturul curiosity prompts 
OS to discover the wonders of nature. Man is 
placed in this world as a spectator ; when he is 
tired of wondering at all the novelties about 
him, and not till then, does he deaire to be 
made acquainted with the causes that create 
those wonders. 

What t have observed with regard to natural 
philosophy, I would extend to every other 
science whatsoever. We should teach them 

many of the facts as possible, and defer the 
causes until they seemed of themselves desirous 
of knowing'them. A mind thus leaving school, 
stored with aU the simple experiences of science, 
would be the fittert in the world for the college 
course ; and though such a youth might not 
appear so bright, or so talkative, as those who 
bad learned the real principles and causes of 
of the sciences, yet he would make a wiser 
and would retain a more lasting passion 
for letters, than he who was early burdened 
with the disagreeable institution of cause and 
Cttect. 



r 



iiG THE BEE 

On Eda- In history, such stories alone should be laid, 
"*■"" before them as might catch the imaginaiion i 
instead of this, at present, they are too frequently' 
obliged to toil through the four empires, ae they 
are called, where their memories aie burdene4 
by a number of disgusting names, that destroy 
all their future rcliah for our best historians, who 
may be termed the truest teachers of wisdom. 

Every species of flattery should be carcfuUjt 
avoided ; a boy who happens to say a sprightlyv 
thing, is generally applauded so much, thu; 
he sometimes contiQUCS a coxcomb dl hif) 
life after. He is reputed a wit at fourteen^ 
and becomes a blockhead at twenty. Nurse^ 
footmen, and such, should tjierefore be driveq 
away as much as possible. I was even going tfi 
add, that the mother herself should stifle ha 
pleasure or her vanity, when little master happen! 
to say a good or a smart tiling. Those modes^ 
lubberly boys who seem to want spirit^ becoms 
at length more Ehining men ; and at schoof 
generally go through their business with more' 
ease to themselves, and more satisfaction to theVi 



There has of late a gentleman appeajed, wha 
thinks the study of rhetoric essential to a per-> 
feet education. That bold male eloquencBg 
which often, without pleasing, convinces, 
generally destroyed by such an institution- Coi _^ 
vincing eloquence is infinitely more serviceable 
to its possessor than the most florid harangu^ 
or the most pathetic tones that can be imagined ^ 
and the man who is thoroughly convinced him-* 



THE BEE 117 

aei(, who undcrstaods his subject, and the Ian- On E 
guage he Kpcaks in, will be more apt to silence ca™ 
opposition, than he who studies the force of his 
periods, and fills our ears witli sounds, while 
our minds are destitute of conviction. 

was reckoned the fault of the orators at the 
decline of the Roman empire, when they had 
been long instructed by rhetoricians, that their 
periods were tio harmonious, that they could be 
sung as well as spoken. What a ridiculous 
figure must one of tliese gentlemen cut, thus 
measuring syllables, and weighing words, whea 
he ahodd plead the cause of his client! Two 
architects were once candidates for the huildiog 
tain temple at Athena : the first harangued 
tlie crowd very learnedly upon the ditTcrent 
orders of architecture, and showed them in what 
manner the temple should be built ; the oiiiei, 
who got up after him, only observed, that what 
bis brother had spoken he could do : and thus 
' at once gained liis cause. 

To teach men to be oratois, is little less than 
teach them to be poets ; and for my part, I 
should have too great a regard for my child, to 
wish him a manor only in a bookseller's shop. 
Another pssion which the present age is apt 
run into, is to make children learn all (hiogs, 
the languages, the sciences, music, the exer- 
cises, and painting. Thus a child soon becotnea 
'irr In aW, hut a matler in none. He tliu* 
acquires a superficial fondness for everything, 
and only shows his ignorance wlicn lie attempW 
to exhibit his skill. 



r 



THE BEE 

6 I deliver my thoughts without method or 
o the reader must not be surpriaed 
to Rnd me ooce more addressing schoolmasters 
on the present method of teaching the learned 
languages, which is commonly by literal t 
latiODS. 1 would aek such, if they wei 
travel a journey, whether those parts of the road 
in which they found the greatest difficultiee 
would not be most strongly remembered ? Boy» 
who, if I may continue the allusion, gallop 
through one of the ancients with tlie assist 
of a traDslation, can have but a very slight 
acquaintance either with tlic author or his ' 
guage. It is by tlie exercise of the mind alone 
that a language is learned ; but a literal transla- 
tion, on the opposite page, leaves no exercise for 
the memory at all. The boy will not be a 
fatigue of remembering, when his doubts a 
once satisfied by a glance of the eye ; whereas, 
were every word to be sought from a dictionary, 
the learner would attempt to remember them, to 
save himself the trouble of looking out foi 

To continue in the same pedantic strain, of all 
the various grammars now taught in schools 
about town, I would recommend only the 
common one ; I have forgot whether Lily* 
an emendation of him. The others may be 
improvements j but such improvements seem to' 
me only mere grammatical niceties, no way 
influencing the learner, but perhaps loading hinj 
with trifling subtleties, which, at a proper agej 
he must be at some paitia to forget. • 



THE BEE 139 

Whatever pains a master may take to make On Edi^ 
the learning of the languages agreeable to hiB cation 
pupil, he may depend upon it, it will be at first 
extremely unpleasant. The rudiments of every 
language, therefore, must be given as a usk, not 
1 amusement. Attempting to deceive ehjl- 
into initruction of this kind, is only deceiv- 
ing ourselves ; and I know no passion capable of 
conquering a child's natural laziness but fear. 
Solomon has said it before me ; nor is there any 
more certain, though perhaps more disagreeable, 
truth, than the proverb in verse, too well known 
to repeat on the present occasion. It is very 
probable that parents are told of some masters 
who never use the rod, and consequently are 
thought the properesi instructors for their chil- 
dren ; but though Cendernees is a requisite 
quality in an instructor, yet there is too often 
the truest tenderness in well-timed correction. 

Some have jundy observedi that all passion 
■hould be banished on this terrible occasion ; but, 
I know not how, there is a frailty attending 
1 nature, that few masters are able to keep 
their temper whilst they correct. I knew a 
good-natured man, who was sensible of his own 
weakness in this respect, and consequently had 
recourse to the following expedient to prevent 
his passions from being engaged, yet at the same 
nme administer justice with impartiality. When> 
ever any of his pupils committed a fault, he 
cummoned a jury of his peers,— I mean of the 
boys of his own or the next classes to him : hit 
accusers stood ibith ; he had liberty of pleading 



1 30 THE BEE 

Woridly in his own defence ; and one or two more had 
the liberty of pleading against him : when found 
guilty by the panel, he was consigned to ibf 
footman who attended in the house, who haj 
previous orders to punish, but with lenity, fiji 
this means the master took off the odium oi 
punishment from himiielf; and the footmai( 
between whom and the boys there could r 
even the slightest intimacy, was placed in 
a light aa to be shunned by every boy i 
school. 



Grandeob. 

An alehouse keeper near Islington, who hai 
long lived at the sign of the French King, upq 
the commencement of the last war pulled dow) 
his old sign, and put up that of the Queen a 
Hungary. Under the infiaence of her red faa 
and golden sceptre, he c^intinjied to sell ale d] 
she was no longer the favourite of his customerB 
he changed her, therefore, some time ago, fi 
the King of Prussia, who may probably I 
changed, in turn, for the next great man tha 
shall be set up for vulgar admiration. 

In ibis manner the great arc dealt ou 
after the other, to the gazing crowd. Whei 
we have sufficiently wondered at one of them 
he is taken in, and another exhibited in I ' 
room, who seldom holds his station long ; i 
the mob are ever pleased with variety. 



THE BEE iji 

must own I have such an indilfereat opinion Gimnde 
of the vulgar, that I am ever led to suspect that 
*t which raises their shout; at least I am 
lin to tind thooe great, and sometimes good 
men, who find satisfaction in such acclama- 
tions, made worse by it ; and history has too 
{re(]uendy taught me, that the head which has 
grown this day giddy with tlie roar of the 
illion, has the very next been fixed upon a 

*.a Alexander VI. was entering a little town 
in llie neighbourhood of Rome, which had been 
just evacuated by the enemy, he perceived the 
ismen busy in the market-place in pulling 
down from a gibbet a figure, which had been 
designed to represent himself. There were some 
also knocking down a neighbouring statue of one 
of the Orsini family, with whom he was at war, 
in order to put Alexander's effigy in its place. 
It is possible a man who knew less of the world 
would have condemned the adulation of tltose 
bare-faced flatterers ; . but Alexander seemed 
pleased at their zeal, and turning to Borgia his 
son, said with a smile, Vidtt, mi jilt, quam /me 
tHicrimrn patlbulum inler el italuum. "You see, 
my son, ihc small difference between a gibbet 
and a statue." If the great could be taught any 
lesson, this might serve to teach them upon how 
weak a foundation their glory stands ; for, as 
popular applause is excited by what seems like 
merit, it as quickly condemns what has only the 
appearance of guilt. 

Popular glory is a perfect coquette ; her loiers 



Tjj THE BEE 

Woftdlj must toil, feel every inquietude, indulge every 
caprice ; and perhaps at lafit be jilted for that 
pains. True glory, on the other hand, reserable* 
a woman of sense : her ^idmirers must play dq 
tricks ! they feel no great anxiety, for they on 
sore, in the end, of being rewarded in proporiiot 
to their merit. When Swift used to appear n 
public, he generally had the mob Bhouting in I' 
train. " Pox take these fools ! " he would sa 
" how much joy might all this bawling give n 
Lord Mayor 1 

We have Been those virtues which have, whi 
living, retired from the public eye, general!] 
transmitted to posterity as the truest objec 
admiration and praiae. Perhaps tlie chart 
of the late Duke of Marlborough may one day 
be set up, even above that of his more talked-Oi 
predecessor ; since an assemblage of all the n 
and amiable virrues is far superior to those vut* 
garly called the great ones. I must be pardoned 
for this short tribute to the memory of a man; 
who, while living, would as much detest I 
receive anything that wore the appearance i 
flattery, as I should to offer it. 

I know not how to turn so trite a subject oi 
of the beaten road of commonplace, except t 
illustrating it, rather by the assistance of k 
memory than judgmem, and instead of making 
reflecdons, by telling a story. 

A Chinese, who had long studied the work 
of Confuctua, who knew the characters of fotif" 
teen thousand words, and could read a great pan 
of every book that came in his way, once 




THE BEE 

o his head to travel into liurope, and ubserve Granden 
:uatom9 of a people which he thought not 
very much inferior even to his own countrymen. 
Upon hie arrival at Amsterdam, his passion for 
letters naturally led him to a bookseller's shop : 
and, as he could speak a little Dutch, he civilly 
tsked die bookseller for the works of the im- 
mortal Xijtofou. The bookseller assured him 
he had never heard the book mentioned before. 
Alas!" cries our traveller, "to what purpose, 
then, has he fasted to death, to gain a renown 
which hafi never travelled l>eyond the precincts 
of China ! " 

There is scarce a village in Europe, and not 
e university, that is not thus furnished with 
little great men. The head of a petty cor- 
poration, who opposes the designs of a princB 
who would tyrannically force his subjects to save 
their best clothes for Sundays ; the puny pedant 
who finds one undiscovered property in the 
polype, or describes an unheeded process in the 
skeleton of a mole ; and whose mind, like his 
3Bcope, perceives nature only in detail ; the 
rhymer who makes smooth verses, and paints to 
imaginatioD when he should only speak to 
hearts ; all equally fancy themselves walking 
forward to immortality, and desire the crowd 
behind them to look on. The crowd takes them 
their word. Patriot, philosopher, and poet, 
■ shouted in their train. " Where was there 
fver so much merit seen '. no times so important 
IT own 1 ages yet unborn shall gaze with 
wonder and applause!" To such masic the 



Acs- important pigmy moves forward, boatling and 
demies swelling, and aptly compared to a puddle 

I have lived to see generals, who once had 
crowds hallooing after them wherever they ; 
who were bepraised by newspapers and maga: 
those echoes of the voice of the vulgar, and yeS 
they have long sunk into merited obscurity, with 
scarce even an epitaph left to flatter. A few 
years ago, the herring fishery employed all Gi 
Street ; it was the topic in every coffee-house:, 
and the burden of every ballad. We wei 
drag up oceans of gold from the bottom of th« 
sea; we were to supply all Europe with berringi 
upon our own terms. At [M-esent we hear nt 
more of all ihie. We have fished up very littlt 
gold thai I can learn ; nor do we furnish tho 
world with herrings as was expected. Let na 
wait but a few years longer, and we shall Rnd 
all our expectations a herring fishery. 



Italy. 

Tkere is not, perhaps, a country in Europe^ 
in which learning is so fast upon the decUn 
in Italy ; yet not one in which there are such a 
□umber of academies insdnited for its supports 
There is scarce a considerable town in the whol« 
country, which has not one or two institutioiu o 
this nature, where the learned, as they are p]ea«e( 
to cat) themselves, meet to harangue, to comptv 



r 



THE BEE 

t each odier, and praise tiie utility of their of Itml] 



Jarchius has taken the trouble ta give us a list 
of those clubs or academies, which amoont to 
five hundred and fifty, each distinguished by 
somewhat whimsical in the name. The aca- 
demies ot Bologna, for instance, are divided into 
the Abbandonati, the Ausiosi, Ociosio, Arcadi, 
Confuai, Uubbiosi, &c. There are few of these 
who have not published their transactions, and 
scarce a member who is aot looked upon as the 
most famous man in the world, at home. 

Of all those societies, I know of none whose 
works are worth being known out of the precincts 
of the city in which they were written, except 
the Cicalata Academica — or, as we might ex- 
press it, the Tickling Society — of Florence, I 
have just now before me a manuscript oration, 
spoken by the late Tomaso Crudeli at that 
society, which will at once serve lo give a better 
picture of the manner in which men of wit amuK 
tbemselvES in that country, than anything I could 
say upon the occasion. The oration is this : 

"The younger the nymph, my dear com- 
panions, the more happy the lover. From four- 
teen to seventeen you are sure of finding love for 
love ; from seventeen to twenty-one, there is 
always a mixture of interest and affection. But 
when that period i» past, no longer expect to 
receive, but to buy-^no longer expect a nymph 
who gives, but who sells, her favours. At this 
age, every glance is taught its duty ; not a look, 
not a sigh without design ; the lady, like a skil- 



] 



1 36 THE BEE 

Lucretia ful wairior, aims at the heart of another, while 
«nd she shields her own from danger. 

*' On the contrary, at fifteen you may expect 
nothing but simplicity, innocence, and m 
The passions are then sincere ; the soul s 
seated in the lips i the dear object feeU preaent' 
happineas, without being anxious for the future j 
her eyes brighten if her lover approaches ; hot. 
smiles are borrowed from the Graces, and he| 
very mistakes neem to complete her desires. 

" Lucretja was Just sixteen. I'he rose and^ 
lily took, possession of her face, and her boson^ 
by its hue and its coldness, seemed covered wilhr 
snow. So much beauty and so much virtue 
Beldom want admirers. Orlandino, a youth ol 
sense and merit, was among the number, H« 
had long languished for an opportunity of de- 
claring his passion, when Cupid, as if willing td 
indulge his happiness, brought the charnuDf 
young couple by mere accident to an arboun 
where every pryiog eye, but that of love, wi 
absent. Orlandino talked of the sincerity of h 
passion, and mixed flattery with his addresses g 
hut it was all in vain. The nymph was pre 
engaged, and had long devoted to heaven thos 
charms for which he sued. 'My dear Orlan 
dino,' said she, ' you know I have been lonj 
dedicated to St Catherine, and to her belong 
all that lies below my girdle ; all that is aboW| 
you may freely posf^ea, but farther I cannot 
lot, comply. The vow is passed j I wiri 
e undone, but now it is impossible.' Yq 
may conceive, my companions, the embarras 




THE BEE 137 

ment our young lovers felt upon this occasion. Orlandino 
They kneeled to St Catherine, and though both 
despaired, both implored her assistance. Their 
tutelar saint was entreated to show some ex- 
pedient, by which both might continue to love, 
and yet both be happy. Their petition was 
sincere. St Catherine was touched with com- 
passion; for lo, a miracle! Lucretia's girdle 
unloosed, as if without hands ; and though before 
bound round her middle, fell spontaneously down 
to her feet, and gave Orlandino the possession of 
all those beauties which lay above it." 



THE BEE. 

No. VII.-SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1759, 

Of Eloquemce. 

§Of Elo- r\F all kinds of succces, that of an orator is 
ce ^— ^ the moat pleasing. Upon other occasions, 
the applause we deserve ia conferred in our ab- 
sence, and we are insensible of the pleasure we 
have given ; but in eloquence tlie victory and the 
triumph are inseparable. We read our own glory 
in the face of every spectator ; the audience is 
moved ; the antagonist is defeated ; and the whole 
circle bursts into unsolicited applause. 

The rewards which attend excellence in this 
way are so pleasing, that numbers have written 
professed treatises to teach us the art ; schools 
have been established with no other intent ; 
rhetoric has taken place among the institutions ; 
and pedants have ranged under proper heads, and 
distinguished with long leaned names, loite of the 
strokes of nature, or of passion, which orators 
have used. I say only lame, for a folio volume 
could not contain all the figures which have been 
used by the truly eloquent j and scarce a 



THE BEE 1J9 

speaker or writer but makes use of some that are Of EIo« 
peculiar or new. ^ 1™^ 

Eloquence has preceded the rules of rhetoric, 
s languages have been formed before grammar. 
Nature renders men eloquent in great intereata, or 
great passiona. He that is sensibly touched, sees 
things with a very ditferent eye from the rest of 
mankind. All nature to him becomes an object 
of comparison and metaphor, without attending to 
it : he throws life into all, and inspires his audieoce 
with a part of his own enthusiasm. 

It has been remarked, that the lower parts of 
mankind generally express themselves most figura- 
tively, and that tropes are found in the most 
ordinary forms of conversation. Thus, in every 
language, the heart burns ; the courage is roused ; 
the eyes sparkle ; the spirits are cast down ; 
passion inflames, pride swells, and picy sinks the 
soul. Nature everywhere Kpeaks in thoae strong 
images, which, from their frequency, pass un- 

Nature it is which inspires tliose rapturous 

enthusiasms, those irresistible turns ; a strong 
, passion, a pressing danger, calls up all the imagins' 
I tion, and gives the orator irresistible force. Thus, 
I a captain of the first caliphs, seeing his soldiers 

fly, cried out, " Whither do you run i the enemy 
I are not there I You have been told that the 

caliph is dead ; but God is still living. He re- 
I gards the brave, and will reward the courageous. 

Advance ! " 

j1 moH, ihenfart, may It caUcd thqutnl, who 

trimiftri the pau'ion or itnlimtnt villi which he it 



MO THE BEE 

Of Elo- moved himself, mio the breast of anotlier; and this 
qnence definition appears the more juat, as it coniprehentU 
the graces of silence and of action. An intimate 
persuasion of the truth to be proved, is the senti* 
meat and paaGion to be transferred ; and he whd 
effects this, ia truly possessed of the talent ol^ 
eloquence. 

I have called eloquence a talent, and not a 
art, as so many rhetoricians have done, as art 
acquired by exercise and study, and eloquence la 
the gift of nature. Rules will never make eidiec 
a work or a discourse eloquent ; they only serve 
to prevent faults, but not to introduce beauties ; 
to prevent those passages which are truly eloquent 
and dictated by nature from being blended W)th> 
others wliich might disgust, or at least abate o 
passion. 

What we clearly conceive, says Boiieau, WB 
can clearly express. I may add, that what is 
felt with emotion is expressed also with the same 
movements ; the words arise as readily to p^nt 
our emotions as to express our thoughts with 
perspicuity. The cool care an orator takes ta 
express passions which he does not feel, only 
prevents his rising into that passion he wonlt 
seem to feel. In a word, to feel your sobjec 
thoroughly, and u> speak without fear, are tb 
only rules of eloquence, properly so called, which 
I can offer. Examine a writer of genius on di< 
most beaudful parts of his work, and he will 
always assure you, that such passages arc gencr* 
ally those which have given him the least trouble, 
&r they came as if by inspiration. To pretefid 



THE BEE 

that cold and didactic precepts wil 
elo(|uent is only to prove that he ii 
eloquence. 

But, as in being perspicuous, it i 
have a full idea of the subject, eo in being elo- 
quent it is not sufficient, if I may ho esprcBH it, 
to feel by halves. The orator should be strongly 
impressed, which is generally tlie effect of a fine 
and exquisite sensibility, and not that transient 
and superficial emotion which he excites in the 
greatest part of his audience. It is even impoi- 
*')le lo affect the hearers in any great degree 
ithout beiog affected ourselves. In vain it will 
be objected, that muny writers have had the art 
to inspire their readers with a passion for virtue, 
without being virtuous themselves, since it may 
be answered, that sentiments of virtue filled their 
minds at the time they are writing. They felt 
the inspiration strongly, while they praised jusuce, 
generosity, or good'Oature ; but, unhappily tor 
them, tiKse passions might have been discon- 
tinued, when they laid down the pen. In vain 
will it be objected again, that we can move 
without being moved, as we can convince wiUiotil 
being convinced. It is much easier to decnve 
our reason than ourselves : a triSing defect in 
reasoning may be overseen, and lead a man 
astray, for it requires reason and time to detect 
' e falsehood ; but our passions are not easily 
iposed upon, — our eyes, our ears, and every 
nse, are watchful to detect the imposture. 
No discourse can be eloquent that does not 
elevate the mind. Pathetic eloquence, it is true. 



143 THE BEE 

Of Elo- has for its only object to affect ; but I appeal to 
qnence nien of sensibility, whether their pathetic feelingfl 
are not accompanied with some degree of elev»a 
tioD. We may then call eloquence and sublimit 
the same thing, since it is impo&Gible to b 
without feeling the other. From hence J 
lows, that we may be eloquent in any language 
since no language refuses to paint thoee s 
mentB with which we are thoroughly impressed 

I What is usually called sublimity of style, 

to be only an error. Eloquence is not in th| 
words, but in the subject ; and in great cone 
the more simply anything is expressed, 
generally the more sublime. True eloqumra 

I does not consist, as the rhetoricians assure ub, 

nayittg great things in a sublime style, but in 
simple style ; for there is, properly speaking, i 
such thing as a sublime style ; the sublimity iiec 
only in the things ; and when they are not so, Uj 
language may be turgid, affected, metaphorical,— 

I but not affecting. 

What can be more simply expressed ihan tb 
following extract from a celebrated preacher, an 
yet what was ever more sublime ? Speaking a 
the small number of the elect, he breaks out thia 
among his audience ;— " Let me suppose thai 

I this was the last hour of us all — that the h 

were opening over our heads — that lime wa 
passed, and eternity begun-^that .lesus Christ ii 
all His glory, that Man of Sorrows, in all Hia 
glory, appeared on the tribimal, and that n 
assembled here to receive our final decree of life, 
or death eternal ! Let me ask, impressed witib 



THE BEE 143 

terror like you, and not separating my lot from Of Elo- 
yours, but putting myself in the aanie situation V^* 
in which we must all one day appear before God, 
our judge, — let me ask, if Jesus Christ should 
now appear to make that terrible separation of the 
just from the unjust, do you think the grealeat 
number would be saved .' Do you think the 
number of the elect would even be equal to that 
of the sinners ? Do you think, if all our works 
were examined with justice, would He find ten 
just persons in this great assembly ? Monsters 
of ingratitude I would He find one?" Such 
passages as these are sublime in every language. 
The expression may be less speaking, or more 
indistinct, hut the greatness of the idea still re- 
mains. In a word, we may be eloquent in every 
language and in every style, since elocution 
is only an assistant, but not a constitutor of 
eloquence. 

Of wbat use, then, will it be said, are ull the 
precepts given us upon this head, both by the 
ancients and moderns? 1 answer, that they 
cannot make us eloquent, but they will certainly 
prevent us from becoming ridiculous. They 
can seldom procure a single beauty, but they 
may banish a thousand faults. The true method 
of ao orator is not to attenipt always to move, 
always to affect, to be continually sulilinie, but at 
proper intervals to give rest botli to his own and 
the passions of his audience. In these periods of 
relaxation, or of preparation rather, rules may 
teach him lo avoid anything low, trivial, or dis- 
gusting. Thus criticism, properly speaking, 11 



143 

Of Elo- Vias . 
quence men 

are n^ 

tion. 
the ear 
without 

lows, tVi 
since no 
ments wr 
What is V. 
to be only 
vvords, but 
the more 



tnc »»'^- . 
aenerally "^ 
does not cons 
saying gte^t "^ 

simple style ; • 

such thing as ;i 

only in the thin 

Uneviage may be 

ff not affecting. 
What can oe 
following extract 
yet what was C.U 

Ihe small numbei - 
inong his audien. 
this was the lastj^o 
™cre opening oyci 
ped,Vndeten.vt,-^. 

assembled here I 

or death eternal I »• 



THE BEE H5 

of nenae ; anioag his acquainunce only, did Of EIo-> 
I say ? nay, even with his bishop. qusoce 

The polite of every country have several 
motives to induce them to a rectitude of action, 
— the love of virtue for its own sake, the 
shame of ofl'ending, and the desire of pleasing. 
The vulgar have one,— the enforcements of 
religion ; and yet those who should push this 
motive home to iheir hearts, are basely found 
to desert their post. They speak to the squire, 
the philosopher, and the pedant ; but the poor, 
those who really want instruction, are left umn- 
(tiucted. 

I have attended most of our pulpit orators, 
who, it must be owned, write extremely well 
upon the text they assume. To give them their 
due aleo, they read their sermons with elegance 
and propriety ; but this goes but a very short 
way in true elotjuencc. The speaker must be 
moved. In this, in tliis alone, our Eoglisb 
divines are deficient. Were they to speak to a 
few calm, diapasaionate hearers, they certainly 
nse the propeiest methods of address ; but their 
audience is chiefly composed of the poor, who 
must be influenced by motives of reward and 
punishment, and whose only virtues lie in self- 
How, then, are such to be addressed ! Not 
by studied periods, or cold disquisition!! ; not 
by the labours of the head, but the honest 
■pontaneous dictates of the heart. Neither 
* 'ag a sermon with regular jieriods, and all 
the harmony of elegant expression — neither 



r 



145 THE BEE 

Of Elo- reading i( with emphasie, propriety, and delibera 
■J**"** tion — neither pleasing with metaphor, simile, oi 
rhetorical fostian — neither arguing coolly, i 
untying consequences united in a priori, 1 
bundling up inductions a peileriori — neither 
pedantic jargon, nor academical trifling, caBi 
persuade the poor. Writing a discourse eoollji 
in the closet, then getting it by memory, at 
delivering it on Sundays, even thai will not d 
What, ijien, is to be done ? I know of 1 
expedient to speak — to speak at once inteUigiblji 
and feelingly — except to understand the laai 
guage ; to be convinced of the trutli of tht 
object — to be pcrfecdy acquainted with th< 
subject in view — -to prepossess yourscli' with 
low opinion of your audience — and to do t 
rest extempore. By this means, strong e»i 
press) ona, new thoughts, rising passions, on 
the true declamatory style, will naturailj 
ensue. 

Fine declamation does not consist in flower; 
periods, delicate allusions, or musical cadence 
but in a plain, open, loose style, where thi 
periods are long and obvious ; where the sam 
thought is often exhibited in several points « 
»iew : all this, strong sense, a good memorj 
and a small share of experience, will furnish ti 
every orator ; and without these, a dergymai 
may be called a fine preacher, a judicit 
preacher, and a man of sound sense ; he ra 
make his hearers admire his understanding, I 
will seldom enlighten theirs. ,^ 

When I think of the Methodist preachet 



THE BEE U7 

among us, how seldom they arc endued with Of Ete- 
non cense, and yet how often and how quenee 
justly they affect their hearers, I cannot avoid 
saying within myself, had these been bred 
gentlemen, and been endued with even the 
meanest share of understanding, what might 
they not effect ; Did our biabops, who can add 
dignity to their expostulations, testify the eame 
fervour, and enirtat their liearern, as well as 
argur, what might not be the consetjuence ! 
The vulgar, by which I mean the bulk of 
mankind, would then have a double motive lO 
religion ; first, from seeing its professors 
honoured here, and next, Irom the consequences 
hereafter. At present the enthusiasms of the 
poor arc opposed to law ; did law conspire with 
their enthusiasms, we should Dot only be the 
happiest nation upon earth, but the wisest 
also. 

tinthusiasm in religion, which prevails only 
among the vulgar, should be the chief objetc of 
politics. A society of enthusiasts, governed by 
reason, among the great, is the most indissoluble, 
most virtuous, and the most eiUcient of iti 
decrees that can be imagined. Every 
country, possessed of any degree of streng;th, 
has had its enthusiasms, which ever serve as 
laws among the people. The Greeks had their 
Kaloiagalhia, the Romans their ^mor PalrU, 
imd we the truer and firmer bond of the Protti- 
RtHgion. The principle is the same in all j 
how much, then, is it the duty of those whom 
the l«w has appointed teachers of this religion, 



148 THE BEE 

Of Elo- to enforce its obligations, and to raise those 
ce emhustaams among people, by which alone poli- 
tical society cnn subsist ? 

From eloquence, ilicrdbre, the morals of our 
people are to expect emendation ; but how 
little can they be improved by men who get 
into the pulpit rather to show their parts than 
convince ua of the trulli of what they deliver ; 
wlio are painfully correct in their style, musical 
in their tones ; where every sentiment, every 
expression, seems the result of meditatioi 
deep study. 

Tiilotson has been coromeoded as the model 
of puljnt eloquence : thus far he should be 
imitiited, where he generally strives to convince 
rather than to pleane ; but lo adopt his \oag, 
dry, and Kometimei tedious diacussioaa, which 
serve to amuse only divines, and are utterly 
neglected by the generality of mankind — to ' 
praise the intricacy of his periods, which are 
loo long to be spoken — to continue his cool 
phlegmatic manner of enforcing every xrath, 
— in certainly erroneous. As I said before, 
(he good [H'eacher should adopt no model, 
write no sermons, study no periods i let him 
but understand his subject, the language be 
speaks, and be convinced of the truths he 
delivers. It is amazing to what heights eloquence 
of this kind may reach ! This is that eloquence 
the ancients represented as lightning, bearing 
down every opposer ; this the power which hM 
turned whole assemblies into astonishmcDt, 
admiration, and awe — that is described by the 'I 



■ THE BEE 149 

W torrent, the flame, and every other instance of Cwtonl 
irresistible impetuosity. ^^ 

But to attempt such noble heights, belongs ^-■^* 
only to the truly great, or the truly good, To 
discard the lazy manner of reading sermons, or 
speaking sermons by rote ; to act up singly 
BgainsC>the opposition of men who are attached 
to their own errorfl, and to endeavour to be 
great, instead of being prudent, are qualities we 
seldom see united. A minister of the Church 
of England, who mav be possessed of good 
sense, and some hopes of preferment, will 
seldom give up such substaBtial advantages for 
the empty pleasure of improving society. By 
his present method he is liked by his friends, 
admired by his dependants, not displeasing to 
his bishop; he lives as well, eats and sleeps as 
well, ae if n real orator, and an eager assercer of 
his mission : he will hardly, therefore, venture 
all this, to be called, perhaps, an enthusiast ; 
nor will he depart from custonis established by 
the brotherhood, when, by such a conduct, 
be only singles himself out for their contempt. 



CtJSTOM AKn Laws Compared. 

What, say some, can give us a more con- 
trmptible idea of a large state, than to liod U 
mostly governed by custom ; to have few written 
laws, and no boundaries to mark the jurisdiction 
between the senate and people i Among the 
number who speak in this manner is the great 



r 



ISO THE BEE 

CDstam Moniesquieu, who asserts that every 
free in proportion to the number of il 
laws, acid seems ta hint at a despotic aitd.arbi' 
trary conduct in the present King of PruBsiai 
who has abridged the laws of his country ii 
very short compass. 

As Tacitus aud Montesquieu happen to diStt 
in sentiment upon a subject of eo much impOH 
tance (for the Roman expressly aeserts, that titt 
nate is generally vicious in proportiar 
Dumber of its laws), it will not be 
examine it a Kttle more mbutely, and see whethe* 
a state, which, like lingland, is burdened widt 
a multiplicity of written laws, or which, lili 
Switzerland, Geneva, and some other republic 
i» governed by custom and tl ' 
the judge, is best. 

And to prove the superiority of ( 
written law, we shall at least find history co»i 
spiring. Custom, or the traditional observanci 
of tlie practice of their forefathers, was w' 
directed the Romans, as well in their public 
private determinations. Custom was appealed & 
in pronouncing sentence against a ' ' ' 
pan of the formulary was mon 
SalluBt, speaking of the expulsion of Tarquig 
says, mutala mare, and not lege ttiulata ; an 
Virgil, pacitque imponere marem. So that, i 
those times oi the enipire in which the peopk 
retained their liberty, they were governed 1 
custom; when they sunk into oppresEiou 31 
tyranny, they were restrained by new laws, ai 
the laws of iradidcm abolished. 



THE BEE :5i 

Ab getting the ancients on our side is half a and ' 
victory, it will not be amiss to fortify the argu- Law* 
-ment with an obftervation of ChryBoatom's — that 
J' The enslaved are the fittest to be governed by 
laws, and free men by custom." Custom par- 
takes of the nature of parental injunction ; it is 
kept by the people themselves, and observed 
with a willing obedience. The observance of it 
must, therefore, be a mark of freedom ; and 
coming originally to a state from the reverenced 
bunders of ite liberty, will be an encouragemeni 
and auistance to it in the defence of that bless- 
ing: but a conquered people, a nation of slaves, 
must pretend to none of this freedom, or these 
happy dislinctiona ; having, by degeneracy, lost 
all right to iheir brave forefathers' free institu- 
tions, their masters will in policy take the for- 
feiture ; and the fixing a conquest must be done 
by giving laws, wliich may every moment serve 
to remind the people enslaved of their conquerors : 
nothitig being more dangerous than to truKt a 
late subdued people with old customs, that prc- 
geoily upbraid liieir degeneracy, and provoke 
them to revolt. 

The wisdom of the Roman republic in their 
neration for custom, and backwardness to in- 
troduce a Dew law, was perhaps the cause of 
their long continuance, and of the virtues of 
which they have set tlie world so many examples. 
But to show in what that wisdom consists, il 
may be proper to observe, that the benefits of 
new-written bws are merely confined to tho 
consequences of their observance ; but customary 



iS2 THE BEE 

m laws, keeping up s. Teneration for the foundcrsi 
■ engage men in the imitation of their virtues M 
well as policy. To thie may be ascribed the 
religious regard the Romans paid to their forC* 
fathers' memory, and their adhering for so 
ages to the practice of the sarae virtues ; whi^ 
nothing contributed more to efface than 
introduction of a. voluminous body of new kwfi 
over the neck of venerable custom. 

The simplicity, conciseness, and antiquity c 
custom, give an air of majesty and immutabilitjl 
that inspires awe and -veneration ; but new I. 
are too apt to be voluminous, perplexed, 
indeterminate ; whence must necessarily a 
neglect, contempt, and ignorance. 

As every human institution is subject to gl 
imperfections, so laws must necessarily be liaUj 
to the same inconveniences, and their defect 
soon discovered. Thus, through the weakoes 
of one part, all the rest are liable to be broughl 
into contempt. But such weahnesaes in a custonl 
for very obvious reasons, evade an examins 
besides, a friendly prejudice always stands up n 
their favoui'. 

But, let us suppose a new law to be perfectly 
equitable and necessary ; yet, if the procurers <^ 
it have betrayed a conduct that confesses by* 
ends and private motives, the disgust to t" 
circumstances disposes us, unreasonably indee 
to an irreverence of the law itself: but we a 
indulgently blind to the most visible imperfeel 
[ions of an old custom. Though we po'ceiT 
the defects ourselves, yet we remain persuadet 



THE BEE 153 

that am wise forefathers had good reason for a 
what they did ; and though such motives no ^ 
longer continue, the benefit will still go along 
with the obsertante, though we don't know how. 
It is thus the Romaa lawyers speak : " Non 
omniuin qux a Riajoribus conscituta sunt, ratio 
reddi potest, et ideo rationea eorum qus con- 
stituuntur inquiri non oportet, aliaquin niulta ex 
his qufE certa sunt eubvertuntur." 

Those laws which preserve to themselves the 
greatest love and obitervance, must needs be best i 
but custom, as it executes itself, muNt be neces- 
sarily superior to written laws, in this respect 
which are to be executed by another. Thus, 
nothing can be more certain than that DumcrouE 
written laws are a sign of a degenerate com- 
munity, and are frequently not the consequences 
of vicious morals in a state, but the causes. 

From hence we see how much greater benefit 
it would be to the state Rtther to abridge than 
increase its laws. We every day lind them 
increasing ; acts and reports, which may be 
tenned the acts of judges, are every day be- 
coming more voluminous, arid loading the subject 
with new pen itl ties. 

Laws ever increase in tiumber and severity, 
until they at length are strained so tight as to 
break themselves. Such was the case of the 
latter empire, whose laws were at length become 
so strict, that the barbarous invaders did not 
bring servitude but liberty. 



Middle Of all the follies and absurdities which thia 
Class great raetropolie labours under, there is not om^ 
I believe, at present appears in a more glaring 
and ridiculous tight ibar the pride and luxury 
of the middling class of ]>cople. Their eag^ 
desire of being seen in a sphere far above theif 
capacities and circumstances, is daily — iiay> 
hourly^-insCanced, by the prodigious number^ 
of mechanics who flock to the races, and gamiogl: 
tables, brothels, and all public diversions this 
■" fashionable town affords. • 

I You ghall see a grocer or a tallow-chandler^ 

I sneak &om behind the compter, clap on a laced 

I coat and a bag, fly to the E. O. table, throtR 

I away fifty pieces with some sharpbg i 

I quality, while his industrious wife is selling i 

^L pennyworth of eugar, or a pound of candles, 1 

^K tupport her fashionable spouse in his cxtrsTiM 

I 

F 

L 



IS led into this rejection by an odd adn 
ture which happened to mc the other day 
Epsom races, where I went, not through a 
desire, I do assure you, of laying bets, or winni 
thousands, but at the earnest request of a frienc^ 
who had long indulged the curiosity of aeeii 
very natural for an Eoglishma: 
had arrived at the course, and hi 
taken several turns to observe the dilTere 
objects that made up this whimsical groups 
figure suddenly darted by un, mounted ai 



THE BEE iss 

dressed in all the elegance of those jiolite gentry Pride axtii 

ho come to show you they have a little money, Luxuty 

id rather tlian pay their just debts at home, 

geoerouflly come ahroad to bestow it on gamblers 

and pickpockets. As I had not an opportunity 

of viewing his face till hiti return, I gently 

walked after him, and met him as he came 

back ; when, to my do small aurpriK, 1 beheld 

his gay Narcissus the visage of Jack Varnish, 

humble vender of prints. Disgusted at the 

sight, I pulled my friend by the sleeve, pressed 

him lo return borne. Ceiling him all the way, that 

I waK so enraged at the fellow's impudence, I 

was resolved never to lay out another penny with 

And now, pray. Sir, let mc beg of you to give 
IS a place in your paper, that Mr Vamish may 
understand he mistakes the thing tjuite, if he 
iraagincs horse-racing re commend able in a tradeii-' 
: nod that he who is revelling every night 
lie armii of a common strumpet (though 
blessed with an indnlgenc wife) when he ought 
to be minding his business, will never thrive in 
this world. He will find himself soon mistaken, 
his finances decrease, his friends shun him, 
customers fat) off, and himself thrown into a 
gaol. I would earncsdy recommend this adage 
to every mechanic in London, " Keep youf 
shop, and your shop will keep you." A strict 
observance of these words will, I am sure, in 
gain them estates. Industry in the road to 
wealth, and honeity to happineaR ; and he who 
renuously endeavours to pui'sue them both, may 



156 THE BEE 

; .Sabinos never fear the critic's lash, or the sharp ci 
pcDury and want. 



Sablnos and Omnda. 

In a fair, rich, acd ilourishjag country, whoat 
cliftB are washed by the German Ocean, live 
SaHnus, a youth formed by nature to make 
conquest wherever he thought proper; but tlM 
constancy of his disposition fixed him only witl 
Olinda. He was, indeed, superior to \ 
fortune, but that defect on her side was so 
supplied by her merit, that none was thougb 
more worthy of his regards than she. He lovei 
her, he was beloved by her; and in a short tir 
by joining hands publicly, they avowed 1 
union of their hearts. But, alas ! Done, howeve 
fortunate, however happy, are exempt from tJ 
shafts of envy, and the malignant cffectB of u: 
governed appetite. How unsafe, how deteataU 
are they who have this fury for their guidi 
How certainly will it lead them from them 
selves, and plunge them in errors they i 
have shuddered at, even in apprehension. A 
a lady of many amiable qualities, very neaci 
allied to Sabinus, and highly esteemed by bin 
imagined herself alighted, and injuriously treac« 
since hie marriage with Olinda. Dy uncaudoui 
sulFeriDg this jealousy to corrode in her brea 
she began to give a loose to passion ; she forge 
those many virtues for which she had been a, 
long and so juutly applauded. Causeless suspicio 



THE BEE 157 

and mistaken reGentmeiit betrayed her into a!l the and 
gloom of discontent; she sighed without ceasing] Olinda 
the happiness of others gave her intolerable pain; 
she thought of nothing but revenge. How on- 
like what she was, — the cheerful, the prudent, 
the compassionate Ariana I 

She continually laboured to disturb an union 
so iirmly, bo affectionately founded, and planned 
every scheme which she thought most likely to 
disturb it. 

Fortune seemed willing to promote her unjUBt 
intentioDS : the circumstances of Sabinus had 
been long embarrassed by a tedious lawsuit, and 
the court deCerminiog the cause unexpectedly in 
favour of hia opponent, it sank his fortune to the 
lowest pitch of penury from the highest affluence. 
From the nearness of relationship, Sabinus ex- 
pected from Ariana those assistances his present 
situation required ; but she was insensible to all 
his entreaties, and the justice of every remon- 
strance, unless he first separated from Olinds, 
whiHn the regarded with detestation. Upon a 
compliance with her desires in this respect, she 
promised her fortune, her interest, and her all, 
should be at his command. Sabinus was shocked 
at the proposal ; he loved his wife with inex- 
pressible tenderness, and refused those offers, 
with indignation, which were to be purchased 
at BO high a price. Ariana was no less dis- 
pleased to find her offers rejected, and gave a 
loose to all that warmth which she had long 
endeavoured to suppress. Reproach generally 
produces recriminatiun ; the quarrel rose to such 



158 THE BEE 

B a height, that Sabinus wns marked for deotri 
tion. and ihe very next day, upon the atr 
of 30 old family debt, he was seat to gaol, 
□one but Olinda to comfort him in his mil 
In this mannion of diGtresa they liTcd togei 
with resignation, and even with comfort, 
provided the frugal meal, and he read for 
while employed in the httle offices of doiw 
concern. 1 beir i'ei low-prisoners admired th< 
contentment, and whenever they had a desire 
relaxing into mirth, and enjoying those Itl 
comforts that a prison aifords, Safrinus and Olii 
were sure to be of the party. Instead of 
proaching each other for their muttial wretcbedv 
neas, they both lightened it, by bearing each i 
share of tiie load imposed by Providence. Whew' 
ever Sabious showed the least concer 
dear partner's account, she conjured him by tb^ 
love he bore her, by those tender ties which 
united them for ever, not to diacompose himseif^ 
that so long as his aflection lasted, she defied w 
the ills of fortune, and ei^ery loss of fame t)^ 
friendship ; that nothing could make her 
able but his seeming to want happiness ; nothiiqf; 
pleased but his sympathising with her pleasurfcl 
A continuance in gjrison soon robbed them of ihq 
little they bad left, and famine began to make tl 
horrid appearance ; yet still was neither found 
murmur ; they both looked upon their litde 
who, insensible of their or his own distresfl, 
playing about the room, with inexpressible 
ailent anguish, when a messenger came to in 
them that Ariana was dead, and that her 



THE BEE rS9 

in favour of a very distant relation, who was now and 
in another country, might easily be procured and Olinda 
buret, in which case all her large fortune would 
revert lo him, as being the next heir-at-law. 

A proposal of so base a oatore fiUed our un- 
happy couple with horror ; they ordered the 
messenger immediately out of the room, and, 
faliing upon each other's neck, indulged an agony 
of sorrow, for now even all hopes of relief were 
banished. The messenger who made the pro- 
posal, however, was only a spy sent by Ariana 
to sound the dispositions of a man she loved at 
once and persecuted. This lady, though warped 
by wrong pasnona, was naturally kind, judicious, 
and friendly. She found that all her attempts 
to shake the conttancy or the integrity of SabinUs 
were ineffectual ; she had therefore begun to 
reflect, and to wonder how she could so long 
and so unprovoked injure such uncommon forti- 
tude and affection. 

She had, from the next room, herself heard 
tlie recepUon given to the messenger, and could 
not avoid feeling all the force of superior virtue: 
ihe therefore reassumed her former goodness of 
heart t ahe came into the room with tears in her 
eyes, and acknowledged the severity of her former 
treatment. She bestowed her first care in pro- 
viding them all the necessary supplies, and ac- 
knowledged tjiem as the most deserving heirs of 
her fortune. From this moment, Sabinua enjoyed 
an uninterrupted happiness with Olinda, and both 
were happy in the friendship and assistance of 
Ariana ; who, dying soon atter, left them in 



i6o THE BEE 

On the poiseauon ot » large estate, and, in her last 

Ope« moments, confessed that virtue w»8 the only part 

of true glory ; and that, however innocence ms^ 

for a time be depresaed, a steady perseverance 

will, in time, lead it to a certain victory. 



Of the Opera in Kngland, 

The rise and taL ot our amusements pretty 
much resemble that of empire. They this daj 
flourish without any visible cause for such Tij 
the next they decay away without any r 
that can be assigned for their downfall. Sonitf 
years ago, the Italian opera was tlie only fashiooii 
nble amusement among our nobility. The man 
ftgers of the playhouses dreaded it as a mort: 
enemy, and our very poets listed themsclres i 
the opposition: al present tlie house seems de 
serted, the cailrati sing to empty benches; eve 
Prince Vologeso himself, a youth of great ex- 
pectations, sings himself out of breath, and rattlfl 
his chain to no purpose. 

To say the truth, the opera, as it is coiulucu 
among us, is but a very humdrum amusement _ 
in other countries the decorations are entirdj 
mtignificent, the singers all excellent, and t 
burlcttas, or interludes;, quite entertaining ; t 
best poets compose the words, and the b 
masters the music. But with us it is otherwisat 
the decoration* arc but trifling and cheapi tl 
tinger*, Matci only excepted, but inditTcPen 
ItiHteMd of interlude, we have those eorta i 



THE BEE i6i 

ikipping dances, which are calculated for the in 
galleries of the theatre. Every performer sings Engkntfi 
his favourite song, and the music is only a medley 
•of old Italian airs, or some meagre modern 

"'hen such ia the case, it h not much to be 
wondered if the opera is pretty much neglected. 
The lower orders of people have neither taste 
nor fortune to relish such an entertainment ; they 
would Und more satisfaction in the " Roast Beef 
of Old England " than in the finest closes of an 
eunuch ; they sleep amidet all the agony of reci- 

We. On the other hand, people of fortune or 

te can hardly be pleased, where there is a 

ible poverty in the decorations, and an entire 
want of taste in the composition. 

Would it not surprise one, that when Metas- 
tasio is 90 well known in England, and so uni- 
rversally admired, the manager at the composer 
thould have recourse to any other operas than 
those written by him ? I might venture lo say, 
that " written by Metaetasio," put up in the bifli 
«£ the day, would alone be sufRcient to till an 
Jiouse, since thus the admirers of sense as well 

sound might find entertainment. 

The performers also should be entreated to 
Bing only their parti^ without clapping in any ot 
their own favourite airs. 1 must own, that such 
songs are generally to me the most disagreeable 
; world. Every singer generally chooses a 
favourite air, not from the exoeilency of the 
music, but from (he difficulty ; such songs are 
'^nerally chosen as surprise rather than please, 



i5! TMt BEE 

On the where the performer may show his compaee, hi* 
Op«« breadth, and hia volubUity. 

From hence proceed those unnatural scarijngB, 
those unmuaicai closings, and shakes lengthen^ 
out to a painfiil continuance ; Euch, indeed, may 
show a voii:e, but it must give a truly delicaW 
ear the utmost unea«ineeB. Such trick 
music i neither Corelli nor Pergolesi 
mitted them, and ihey begin even to be diaco# 
tinued in Italy, where ihey (ir»i had their rise 

And, now I am upon the subject, our co 
■posers also should affect greater Bimpltcity — 
their baas cHfF have all the variety they can | 
it, — let the body of the music (if I may so < 
press it) be as various aa tliey please j but 
them avoid ornamenting a barren groundworl 
let them not attempt, by flourishing, to cheat a 
of solid harmony. 

The works of Mr Rameau are never heap 
■without a surprising effect. I can attribute'^ 
only to this simplicity he everywhere observ^ 
insomuch that some of hia finest harmonies a' 
often only octave and unison. This i 
manner has greater powers than is generaiH 
imagined ; and were not such a deraonBtrati 
misplaced, I think, from the principles of mns 
it might be proved to be most agreeable. 

But to leave genera! reflection; With I 
present set of performers, the operas, if the cM 
ductor thinks proper, may be carried on wi| 
some success, since they have all some merjt^ 
sot as actors, at least as nngers. Signora Mi 
is at once both a perfect actress and a verjrf 



THE BEE 163 

siagei. She is possessed of h fioe sensibility in ii 
her manner, aad seUom indulges those extrava- Englanii 
gant and unmusical Hights of voice complained 
oi before. Comacini, on the other hand, is a 
very indifferent actor — has a most unmeaning 
'ice — eeems not to feel his part — is infected with 
passion of showing his compass ; but to recom- 
pense all these defects, his voice is melodious — 
be has vast compass, and great volubility — his 
swell and ehake are perfectly fine, unlese that he 
continues the latter too long. In short, what- 
*r the defects of his action may be, they are 
iply recompensed by his excellency as a singer ; 
r can 1 avoid fancying that he might make a 
much greater figure in an oratorio than upon the 
stage. 

However, upon the whole, I know not whether 
ever operas can be kept up in England ; they 
seem to be entirely exotic, and require the tiiceBt 
management and care. luEtead of this, tlie care 
of them is assigned to men unacquainted with the 
genius and disposition of the people they would 
amuse, and whose only motives are immediate 
gain. Whether a discontinuance of such enter- 
tainments would be more to the loss or the 
advanuge of the nation, I will not take upon mc 
to determine, since it is as much our interest to 
induce foreigners of taste among us on the one 
hand, as it is to discourage those trifling members 
of society who generally compose the operatical 
ilramnlir ffrienir, on the other. ™ 



'\ * 



. ■ ■ • 1 ' * 



,1 ;■, I 



• . • ..J 



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■■■tf ■ 



• • • ■ ■ ■ < n • . 



MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS. 




MISCELLAKEOOS ESSAVSV' 



'T'HE following EsBaya have already appeared Prei«c« 

at diflcrect umes, and in dilierent publica- 
tions. The pamphlets in which they were 
inserted being generally imsucceasful, these shared 
the common fate, without assisting the book- 
Bcller'* aims, or extending the writer's reputatiOD. 
The public were too Btrenuously employed with 
their own foliies to be assiduous is estimating 
mine : so that many of my best attempts in this 
way have fallen victims to the transient topic of 
the times — the Ghost in Cock Lane, or the 
siege of Ticonderago. 

But chough they have past pretty silently into 
the world, I can by no means comply of their 
ciroulation. The magazines and papers of the 
day hate indeed been liberal enough in this 
respect. Most of tiieie iisaays have been 
regularly reprinted twice or tlirice a year, and 
conveyed to the public through the kennel of 
some engaging compilation. If there be a pride 
in multiplied editions, I have seen some of my 
bbours sixteen times reprinted, and claimed iiy 



168 MISCELLANEOUS 

Preface different parents as their own. I Iiave seen them 
flourished at the beginning with praise, and signed 
at the end with the names of Fhilantos, Phila- 
lethes, PhilaiutheroE, and Philanthropoe. These 
gendemen have kindly stood sponsors to my pro- 
ductions, and, to flatter me more, have always 
taken iwy errorfl on themselves. 

It is time, however, at last, to vind 
claims ; and as these entertainers of the publici 
as they call themselves, have partly lived upon 
tne for some years, let me now try if I caimot 
■ '^live a little upon myself. I would desire, in thia' 
case, to imitate the fat man whom I have some- 
where read of in a shipwreck, who, when the 
bailors, pressed by famine, were taking slices 
from his posteriors to satisfy their hunger, insisted* 
with great justice, on having the first cut :* 
himKlf. 

Yet, after all, I cannot be angry with a 
who have taken it into their heads to think tl 
whatever I write is worth reprinting, particularly^ 
wbea I consider liow great a majority will think 
it scarce worth reading. Trifling artd super* 
ficial are terms of reproach that are easily 
objected, and that carry an air of penetratioti k 
the observer. These faults have been objec 
to the following Essays ; and it must be own 
in some measure, that the charge is true. How-> 
ever, I could have made them more metaphy steals 
had I thought lit ; but I would ask, whether, ia 
a short Essay, it is not necessary to be supers 
ficial ? Before we have prepared to enter in 
the depths of a subject in the usual forms, i 



MISCELLANEOUS 169 

have got to the bottom of our scanty page, and Pref«ce 
thus loEc the honours of a victory by too tedious 
a preparation for the combat. 

There is another fault in this collection of 
trifles, which, 1 fear, will not be so easily pr- 
doned. It will be alleged, that the humour of 
them (if any be found) is stale and hackneyed. 
This may be true enough, as matters now aland j 
but I may with great truth assert, that the 
humour was new when I wrote it. Since that 
time, indeed, many of the topics, which were 
first started here, hare bcL-n hunted down, and 
many of the thoughts blown upon. In fact, 
these Essays were considered as quietly laid in 
the grave of oblivion ; and our modern compilers, 
like sextons and executioners, think it their un- 
doubted right to pillage the dead. 

However, whatever right 1 have to complain 
of the public, they can, as yet, have no just 
reason to complain of me. If I have writon 
dull Hssays, they have hitherto treated them as 
dull Essays. Thus far we are at least upon par, 
and until they think lit to make mc their humble 
debtor by praise, I am resolved not 10 lose a 
inngle inch of my self-importance. Instead, 
therefore, of attempting to establish a credit 
amongst them, it will perhaps be wiser to apply 
to some more distant correspondent ; and as my 
drafts are in some danger of being protested at 
home, it may not be imprudent, upon this occa- 
sion, to draw my bills upon Posterity. 



A Description of Variovs Cli 



Various T REMEMBER lo have read in some philo- 
aopher (I believe la Tom Brown's worka), 
that, let a man's character, sentimentK, or com-, 
plexion be what they will, he can lind company 
in London to match them. If he be splenetic,! 
he may every day meet companione on tiie seats 
in St James's Park, with whose groans he may 
mix hiB own, and pathetically talk of the weather. . 
If he be passionate, he mny vent his rage among 
the old orators at Slaughter's Coffee-house, and' 
damji the nation, because it keeps him From' 
starving. IF he be phlegmatic, he may sit in 
silence at the Humdrum Ciub in Ivy Lane ; and, 
if actually mad, he may find very good company 
in Moorfields, either at Bedlam or the Foundery, 
ready lo cultivate a nearer acquaintaiKe. 

But, although such as have a knowledge of> 
the town, may easily class themselves with 
tempers congenial to their own, a countryman|l 
who comes to live in London, finds ootbing 
more difficult. With regard to myself, none 
tried mth more assiduity, or came off with 



VARIOUS CLUBS 171 

uch indilferent succeae. 1 spent a whole season CI 
1 the search ; during which time my name had 
been enrolled in societies, lodges, convocations, 
and meetings without Dumber. To «ome I was 
introduced by 3 friend, to othets inrited by an 
advertisement : to these i introduced myself, 
and to those I changed my name to gain admit- 
tance. In short, no coquette was ever more: 
solicitous to match her ribands to her complexion, 
than I to suit my club to my temper ; for I was 
00 obednate to bring my temper to conform to it. 
The iirst clltb I entered, upon coming to town, 
was that of the Choice Spirits. The name wiw 
entirely suited to my taste,— I was a lover of 
mirth, good-humour, and even sometimes of fan, 
from my childhood. 

^s 00 other passport was requisite but the 
payment of two shillings at the door, I intro- 
duced myself without farther ceremony to the 
members, who were already assembled, and had 
some time begun upon business. The Grand, 
h a mallet in hi>i hand, presided at the head of 
the tabic. I could not avoid, upon my entrimce, 
making use of all my nkill in physiognomy, in 
der to discover that superiority of geitins in 
;n who have taken a title so superior 10 the 
It of mankind. I expected to see the lines of 
*»ery face marked with strong thinking ; but 
though 1 had some skill in this itcience, I could 
for my life discover nothing but a pert simper, 
fat, or profound stupidity. 

My speculations were soon interrupted by the 
Grand, who had knocked down Mr SpriggiciB 



l^2 VARIOUS- CLTTSS 

VmriauB for a song. 1 was upon tliis whispered by ooe 
of the company, who sat next me, that I should 
now see something touched off to a nicety, for 
Mr Spriggins was going to give ii« Mad Tom ini 
all ita glory. Mr Spriggina endeavoured w 
excuse himeelf ; for as he was to act a madman 
and a king, it was iiDpOBsible to go through the 
part properly without a crown and chains. Hit' 
eiccuees were overruled by a great majority, and 
with much vociferation. The president ordered' 
up the jack-chain, and instead of a crowo, our' 
performer covered his brows with an inverted 
Jordan. After he had rattled his chain and', 
shook his head, lo the great del ighl of the whole 
company, he began his song. As I have heard 
few young fellows offer lo aing in company thaB 
did not expose themeelves, it was no great dis- 
appointment to me to lind Mr Spriggins among_ 
the number ; however, not to seem an Odd fa\Xf 
I roie from my seat in rapture, tried out^ 
"Bravo! Encore!" and slapped the t.ihle a 
loud as any of the rest. 

The gentleman who sat next me seemoi 
highly pleased with my taste and the ardour o 
my approbation ; and whispering, told me that C 
had suffered ao immenae loss, for had 1 come a 
few minutes sooner, I might have heard Gee-ha 
Dobbin Bung in a tip-top manner, by the pimple<i 
nosed spirit at the president's right elliow ; 
he was evaporated belbre 1 came. 

Aa I was expressing my uneasitwas at thU 
disappointment, I found the attention of the; 
company employed upon a fat figure, who, wjttt 



VARIOUS CLUBS 173 

Dice more rough than the Staffordshire giant's, Clubs 
I giving us the " Softly sweet in Lydiaii 
isure," of Alesander's Feast. After a short 
pause of admiration, to this succeeded a Welsh 
dialogue, with the humours of Teague and Taffy ; 
after that came on " Old Jackson,'' with a itory 
between every stanza: next was sung the "Dutt 
Cart," and then " Solomon's Song." The glasc 
began now to circulate pretty freely ; those who 
were silent when sober, would now be heard in 
their turn i every man had his song, and he saw 
reason why he siiould not be heard as well as 
any of the rest; one tiegged to be heard while 
he gave " Death and the Lady " in high taste ; 
another sang to a plate wliich he kept trundling 
on the edges. Nothing was now heard but 
singing ; voice rose above voice, till the whole 
became one universal shout, whea the landlord 
came to acquaint the company that the reckoning 
was drank out. Rabelais calls the moments in 
which a reckoning is mentioned, tlie moat melan- 
choly of our lives : never was so much noise so 
quickly quelled, as by this short but pathetic 
oration of our landlord. "Drunk out!" was 
i-choed in a tone of discontent round the ubie : 
" Drunk out already ! " that was very odd '. that 
no much punch could be drunk out already. — 
impossible ! The landlord, however, seeming 
resolved not to retreat from his first assurances, 
the company was dissolved, and a president 
chosen for the night ensuing. 

A friend of mine, to whom I was complaining 
omB time after of the entertainment I have been 



VARIOUS 'd-tms 

Various describing, proponed to bring roe to the clcb that 
he frequented, which he fancied woul 
gravity of my temper exactly. " We have At 
the Muzzy Club," says he, " no rjoti _^ 

nor awkward ribaldry ; no confusion, or bawt* 
ing i all IE conducted with wifidom pnd decency ! 
bewdes, some of our members are worth fore 
thouBaod pounds — men of prudence and foresigM 
every one of thera ; these are the proper acquain- 
tance, and to euch I will to-nighc introdud 
you." I was charmed at the proposal : to I 
acquainted with men worth forty thousand pounds 
and to talk wisdom the whole night, were ofFoi 
that threw me into rapture. 

'clock I wa8 accordingly introduce! 
by my friend, not indeed to the company — fo 
though 1 made my best bow, they seemed in 
sensible of my approach— but to the table t 
which they were xitling. Upon my entering tl 

m, I could not avoid feeling a seer 
tjon, from the solemnity of the scene before n 
the members kept a profound silence, each with-' 
pipe in his mouth, and a pewter pot in his hanl 
and with faces that might easily be i 
into absolute wisdom. Happy society ! thou^ 
I to myself, where ihc members think befol 
they speak, deliver nothing rashly, but i 
their thoughts to each other pregnant with 
ing, and matured by reflection. 

In this pleasing speculation I continued a t 
half hour, expecting each moment that b( 
would begin tn open his mouth : every time tl 
pipe was laid down, I expected it was ti 



VARIOUS CLUBS r?; 

it wn.H only lo ijpit. Al length reaolving to Cluba 
break the charm myself, and overcome their ex- 
treme diffidence — for to thU I imputed their 
silence — I rubbed my hands, and, looking as wise 
as possible, observed that the nights grow a little 
foolish at this time of the year. This, as it was 
directed to none of the company in particular, 
' none thought liimself obliged to answer ; where- 
fore I continued still to rub my hands and look 
?. My next efl'ort was addressed to a gentle- 
L who sat next me ; to whom I obhcrved, 
^at the beer was extremely good : my aeigh- 
bour made no reply, but by a large puff of 
tobacco-smohe. 

now began to be uneasy in this dumb 
society, till one of them a little relieved me, by 
observing, that bread had not risen these three 
ks. " Ay," says another, still keeping the 
_ in his mouth, " that puts me in mind of a 
pleasant slory about that — hem — very well ; you 
must know-^but, before I begin — Sir, my aer- 
iee to you — where was I ? " 
My next club goes by the name of the Har- 
jnonicat Society ; probably from that love of 
order and friendship which every person com- 
menda in institutions of this nature. The land- 
lord was himself Founder. The money spent is 
fourpence each ; and they sometimes whip for a 
double reckoning. To this club few reconi> 
mendations are requisite, except the introductory 
fourpence, and my landlord's good word, which, 
E he gains by it, he never refuses. 
We ^1 here talked and behaved ns every body 



176 VARIOUS CLtJBS 

Various else usually does on his club night ; vi 

the topic of the day j lirank each other's healthy 
Bniiffed the candles with our fingers ; and fiUei 
our pipes from the same plate of tobacco. Tb 
company saluted each other in the common n 
ner : Mr Bellows-mender hoped Mr Curry-co 
maker had not caught cold going home the lag 
elnb night ; and he returned the compUmen 
hoping that young Master Bel lows- mender hai 
got well agam of the chin-cough. Dr Twi* 
told us a uory of a piirliament-man, wi 
whom he was intimately acquainted ; while t] 
bug-man, at the same time, was telling a betccj 
story of a noble lord with whom he could c' 
any ihiog. A gentleman in a black wig at 
leather breeches, at the other end of the table) 
was engaged in a long narrative of the Ghost it 
Cock Lane ; he had read it in the papers of t' 
day, and was telling it to some that eat next hii 
who could not read. Near him, Mr Dibbia 
was disputing on the old subject of religion y ' 
a Jew Pedlar, over the tabic, while the preside^ 
vainly knocked down Mr Leathersides for i 
song. Besides the combinations of these voice^ 
which I could hear altogether, and which formed 
an upperi part of the concert, there were several 
others playing under parts by themselves, and eat 
deavouring to fasten on some luckless neighbour'* 
ear, who was himself bent upon tlie same desiga 
against some other. 

We have often heard of the speech of | 
corporation, and this induced me to tranBcribC 
a speech of this dub* taken in short-hiudi word 



VARIOUS CLUBS 177 

for word, aa it was spokea by every member uf Clubs 
the company. It may be necessary to observe 
that the man who told of the ghost had the 
loudest voice, and the longest Btory to tell, so 
that his continuing narrative filled every cha»ro 

" So, Sir, d'ye perceive nie '. the ghost giving 
three loud raps at the bed~post~~Say8 my lord 
to me, my dear Smokeum, you know there is no 
man upon the face of the yearth for whom I 
have BO high — a damnable false heretical opinion 
of all sound doctrine and good learning ; for I'll 
tell it aloud, and ipue not, that — Silence for a 
Bong ! Mr Leathersidea for a song — ' As I wag 
a-walking upon the highway, 1 met a young 
damsel,' — Then, what brings you here ? says 
the pacBon to the ghost — Sanconiathoa, Manetho, 
and Bctosus— the whole way from Islington' 
turnpike to Dog-house bar — Dam— As for Abel 
Drugger, Sir, he's damn'd low in it ; my 'pren- 
tice boy has more of the gendeman than he— 
For murder will out one time 01 another ; and 
none but a ghoBt, you know, gendemcn, can 

Damtne, if I don't ; for my friend, whom 

you know, gentlemen, and who is a parliament* 
man, a man of consequence, a deai' honest crea- 
ture, to be sure ; we were laughing laat night at 
— Death and damnation upon all his posterity, 
by simply barely tasting— Sout grapea, aa th« 
fox said oDce when he could not reach tliem i 
and I'll, I'll tell you a atory about that, that will 
make you buret yuui sides with laughing : a fox 
once — Will nobody lieti-n to the song? — ' Aii 1 



1 



rja VARIOUS CLU85 

a was a-walkiDg upon the highway, I met a young 
damsel both buxom and gay,'- — No ghost, gentle- 
men, can be murdered j nor did I ever hear bul 
of one ghost killed in all my life, and that % 
grabbed in the belly with a— My blood and soul 
if I don't— Mr Bellows-mender, I hai-e ih« 
honour of drinking your very good health — 
Blast me if I do— -dam — blood — bugs— lire — 
whiz — blid— tit— rat— trip "■■ - ■ 

Were I to be angry at men for being tools, I. 
could here find ample room for declamation); 
but, alas ! I have been a fool myself; and whjr 
should I be angry with them for being eomething 
so natural to every child of humanity p 

Fatigued with this society, I was introducnl' 
the following night to a club of fashiooL " 
taking my place, 1 found the conversation BUf& 
ciently easy, and tolerably good-natured : for m) 
Lord and Sir Paul were not yet arrived. 
iM)w thought myself completely fitted, and ?*■ 
solving to seek no farther, determined to take Uf 
my residence here for the winter ; while nrtf 
temper began to open insensibly to the checrfiit 
nesa I lew diffused on every face in the room I 
bat the delusion soon vanished, when the wdlQ 
came to apprise us that hie lordship and Sir i 
were just arrired. 

From this moment all our felicity was at « 
end ; oui' new guests bustled into the r4x>m, : 
look their seats at the head of the table. Adtev 
now, all confidence ; every creature strove v 
nhould most recommend himself to our mcml 
of distinction. Each seemed quite regardlefl 



VARIOUS CLUBS 179 

AfpleauDg nny but our new guests; and what Cluba 
before wore the appearance of friendship, was 

w turned into rivalry. 

Yet I could not observe that, amidst all this 
flattery and obsequious attention, our great men 
took any notice of the rest of the company. 
Their whole discourse was addreesed Co each 
Other. Sir Paul told his lordship a long ttory 
of Moravia the Jew ; and his lordship gave 
Sir Paul a very long account of his new method 
of managing eilk-worms ; he led him, and con- 
sequently the rest of the company, through all 
the stages of feeding, sunning, and hatching ; 
with an episode on mulberry- trees, a digression 
npoa grasa-seeds, and a long parenthesis about 
new postillion. In this manner we travelled 
wishing every story to be the last ; but all in 
vain: 

Hills over hilK i'>d Alps on Alps arose. 

The last club in which I was enrolled a 
member, was a society of moral philosophers, 

they called themselves, who assembled twice 

week, in order to show the absurdity of the 

present mode of religion, and establish a new 

I found the members very warmly dispuung 
when I arrived; not, indeed, about religion 
or ethics, but about who had neglected to 
lay down his preliminary sixpence upon entef- 
ing the room. The pretident swore that be 
had Itid his own down, and 10 swore itll the 



1 



180 VARIOUS CHUBS 

Various During this contESt, I had an opporninicy c 
obeerving ihc laws, and also the meinbers a 
the society. The president, who had beea« a^ 
I was cold, lately a bankrupt, was a tall pale' 
6gure, with a long black wig i the next to hirtl 
W3B dreKsed in a large white wig, and a blacis 
cravat ; a third, by die brawDDess of his comS 
plexioD, seemed a native of Jamaica ; and i^i 
fourth, by hia hue, appeared to be a blackamith, 
But their rules will give the most just idea o 
their learning and principles. 

I. We, being a laudable society of moralj 
philoiophcrs, intends to dispute twice a weelt 
about religion and priest-craft ; leaving behind 
08 old wives' lalea, and following good learning 
and sound sense : and if so be, that any othefl 
person have a mind to be of the society, thej^ 
shall be entitled so to do, upon paying the sun 
of three shillings, to be spent by tlie company ii 

II. That no member get drunk before din 
of the' clock, upon pain of forfeiting threepenoofl 
to be spent by tlie company in punch- 
Ill. That, nij members are sometimes apt to 

away without paying, evwy person shall pay 
sixpence upon his entering the room ; and bU 
disputes shall be settled by a majority ; and al|i 
fines shall he paid in punch. 
■ IV. That sixpence shall be every night gives 
to the President, in order to buy books of learn» 
ing for Che good of the society : the Fresidic 
has already put himself to a good 'deal< i 
expense in buying books for the club ; [ 



VARIOUS CLUBS i8i 

larly, the works of Tully, Socrates, and Cicero, Clubs 
which he will soon read to the society. 

V. All them who brings a new argument 
against religion, and who being a philosopher, 
and a man of learning, as the rest of us is, shall 
be admitted to the freedom of the society, upon 
paying sixpence only, to be spent in punch. 

VI. WheneveiLw^^e .tpjb^e an extraordi- 
nary meeting, it ^shdi ^b^ ^vitised by some 
outlandish name in the newspapers. 

Saunders MacWijj), Presiaent, 
Anthony Blewit, Flee* President, 

his , t mark. > . 

William Turpin, Secretary. I i '*•■ ^■ 



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ESSAY II 

I OF A Magazine in Mmu- 



f A Maga- A\^E eaaayists, who are allowed but one sub- 
' zine jeci at a time, are by no meana so forti*- 

nate as the writers of magazines, who write 
upon several. If a magaziner be dull upon the 
Spanish war, he soon has us up again with the 
GhoBt in Cock Lane ; if the reader begins to 
doze upon that, he !s quickly roused by aa 
Eastern tale; tales prepare us for poetry, and 
poetry for the meteorological history of the 
weather. The reader, like the sailor's horse, 
when he begins to tire, has at least the com- 
fortable refreshment of having the spur changed^ 
As I see no reason why these should earrjf 
off all the rewards of genius, I have some 
thoughts for the future of malting my essays » 
magazine in miniature : I shall hop from sub- 
ject to subject, and, if properly encouraged, I 
intend ia time to adorn my feuilk -volant witli 
pictures coloured to the perfection. Bui to 
begin in the usual form, — 



MAGAZINE IN MINIATURE 183 

A Modcsl Addrcs IQ fU Public in bfhdf of the 
Inffrtial MageKane. 

The putJic has been bo often imposed upon in Minui- 
by the uaperformiiig promises of others, that it is '"''^ 
with the utmost modesty we assure them of our 
inviolable design to give the wery best collection 
that ever astonished society. The public we 
honour and regard, and, therefore, to instruct 
and entertain them is our highest ambition, 
with labours calculated as well to the head as 
the heart. If four extraordinary pages of 
letter-press be any recommendation of our wit, 
we may at least boast the haoDur of vindicating 
our own abilities. To say more in favonr of 
the Infekkal Magazine, would be unworthy the 
public ; to say less, would be injurious to our- 
Bclies. As we have no interested motives for 
this undertaking, being a society of geutiemeo 
of distinction, we disdain to eat or write like 
hirelings ; we are uU gentlemen, and iheretbri^ are 
resolved to sell our magazine for sixpence merely 
for our own amusement. 

Be eartfalto atifor ihr Inferkai. Magazine. 



DcSealion ; to iht Tripaline Ambattador. 

May it please your ExceUency : — As yonr 
laste in the line arts is universally allowed aiul 
admired, permit the authors of the Infernal 
Magazine to lay the following sheets humbly 



iB4 MAGAZINE IN MINIATURE 

A Ma^B- at your Excellency's toe; and should 

'™'^ labours ever have the happiness of one day 

adorning the courtB of Fez, we doubt cot that 

the influence wherewith we are honoured, shall 

be ever retained with the most warm ardour by, 

May it please your Excellency, 

Your most devoted humble servants, 
The Authors of the Infernal MAOAZiKRi 



A Sptteh tpeken in the PiMt'ual Clui at Cat- 
eatan, not to dtclare IVaF [agaituf Spain. 

My honest friendn and brother politician b,-^ 
I perceive that the intended war with Spain 
makes many of you uneasj'. Yesterday, as w 
were told, the stocks rose, and you were glad 
to-day they fall, and you are again miserablei 
But my dear friends, what is the rising oi 
falling of the stoclcB to us, who have Do nioaey I 
Let Nathan Ben Funk, the Dutch Jew,' be 
glad or sorry for this ; but, my good Mr 
Bellows- mender, what is all this to you or 
You must mend broken belJowt, and I i 
bad prose, as long as we live, whether we like 
a Spanish war or not. Believe me, my honest 
friends, whatever you may talk of liberty and 
your own reason, both that liberty and reasons 
are conditionally resigned by every poor man ii 
every society ; and, as we are born to work, si 
others are bom to watch over us while we an 
working. In the name of common sense, then, 
my good friends, let the great keep watch over 



f 



HAGAZIHE IN MINIATURE 185 

US, and let ae mind our business, and pi^rhaps u 
we may at last get money ourEclves, and act ** 
beggars at work in our turn. I have a Latin 
sentence that is worth its weight in gold, and 
which I shall beg leave to translate for your 
instruction. An author, called Lily's Grammar, 
finely obscrYes, that " .^8 in prteeenti perfectum 
format" ; that is, "Ready money makes a man 
perfect." Let us then, to become perfect men, 
get ready money, and let them that will »pend 
theirs by going to war with Spain. 

Rules for Behaviour, dra-wn up hy an 
hid'igtnt Pbilojopher. 

If you be a rich man, you may enter the room 
with three loud hems, march deliberately up to 
the chimney, and turn your back to the fire. If 
you be :i poor man, I would advise you to vhrink 
into the room as fast as you can, and place 
yourself as usual upon the corner of some chair 

When you are desired to sing in company, I 
would advice you ta refuse. It is s thousand to 
one but that you torment us with affectation, 
ignorance of music, or a bad vuce. This is a 
Tcry good rule. 

If you be young, and live with an old man, I 
would adviic you not to like gravy : I was dis- 
inherited myself for liking gravy. 

Don't laugh much in public j the spectators 
bat are not as merry as you will hate you, cither 



iBa MAGAZINE IN MINIATURE 

Hx{fa- because they envy your happiness, or fancy theni'i 
*"* selves the subject of your mirth. 

Rules for Rmsmg ihc Devil. Tramlatcd Jr.... 
the Latin of Daniis ilc Sortiarils, a wriUf 
contemporary •nj'ilb Calvin, and Qnt of tht 
Reformer) of our Church. 

The person who desires to raise the devil, i| 
to sacri^cc a dog, a cat, and a ben, all of hia 
own property, to Beelzebub. He is to swe 
eternal obedience, and then to receive a mark, in 
some unseen place, either under the eye-lid, 
in the roof of the mouth, inflicted by the devil 
himself. Upon this, he has power given him 
over three spirits; one for earth, another for 
air, and a third for the sea. Upon certain timeg 
the devil holds an assembly of magicians, 
which each is to give an account of what evil he 
has done, and what he wishes to do. At thig 
asBembly he appears in the shape of an old 
or often like a goat with large horns, Theyj 
upon this occasion, renew their vows of obedi- 
ence ; and then form a grand dance in honour of 
their false deity. The devil instructs them id 
every method of injuring mankind, in gathering 
poisons, and of riding, upon occasion, through 
the air. He shows them the whole method, 
upon examination, of giving evasive answerc 
spirits have power to assume the form of angeli 
of light, and there is but one method of detecting 
chem, viz. to ask them, in proper form, What 



MAGAZINE IN MINIATURE 187 

method is the raost certain to propagate the faith In Minia- 
over all the world ? To this they are not per- **"* 
mitted by the Superior Power to make a false 
reply, nor are they willing to give the true one, 
wherefore they continue silent, and are thus 
detected. 



! ■ 



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I • •. I 



ESSAY III 

AsEM, AN Eastern Tale ; or A Vindicatiok 

OF THE Wisdom of Providence in t 
Moral Government of the World 

Asem ■\ArHERE Tauris lifts iu; head above t 

storm, and presents nothiog to the sight 
of the distant traveller but a prospect of nodding 
rocks, falling torrents, and all the variety of tre- 
mendous nature : on the bleak bosom of this 
frightful mountain, secluded from society, and 



detesting the wayi 
Man-liater. 

Asem had spent 
shared in their 



of r 



, lived Asem, the 



1 youth with men, ha4 
!, and had been taught 
s with the most ardent 
affection : but from the tenderness of his dis- 
position, he exhausted all his fortune in relieving 
the wants of the distressed. The petitioner 
never sued in vain ; the weary traveller never 
passed his door i he only desisted from doing 
good when he had no longer the power o: 
relieving. 

From a fortune thus spent in benevolence, hi 
expected a gratefiil return from those be had 




ASEM. AN- EASTERN TALE tSt 

formerly relieved ; aoii made hia application Aam 

with confidence of redress : the ungrateful. Wocld 
Hoon grew weary of his importuiaty [ for pity ix 
but a short-lired passion. He soon, therefore, \ 
began to view mankind in a very different light \ 
from that in which he had before beheld them ; J 
he perceived a thousand vices he had never before 
suspected to exist ; wherever he turned, ingrati- 
tude, dissimglatinn, and treachery, contributed to 
increase his detestation of them. Resolved, 
therefore, to continue no longer in a world which 
he hated, and which repaid his detestation with 
contempt, he retired to this region of sterility, in 
order to brood over his resentment in solitudo, 
and converse wieli tlie only honest heart he 
knew, — namely, with bis own. 

A cave was his only shelter from tlie inclem- 
ency of the weather ; fruits, gathered with dif- 
ficulty from the mountain's side, his only food ; 
and his drink was fetched, with danger and toil, 
from the headlong torrent. In this manner he 
lived, sequestered from society, paHMng the hours 
in meditation, and sometimes exulting that he 
was able to live independent of his fellow- 



At the foot of the a 
displayed its glassy bosom, reflecting on its bio^ 
surface the impending horrors of tl\e mountain. 
To this eapaciojw mirror he would, sometimes 
descend, and, reclining on its steep banks, cast 
an eager look on the smooth expanse that lay 
before him, " How beautiful 1 " he often cried, 
," is Nature ! how lovely even in her wildest 



190 A5EM, AH "EASTERN TACE 

U Bceneu ! How finely costrastcd ie the level i^iB 
ihat lies beneath me, with yon awiiil pile that 
hides its treroeadous head in clouds '. But the 
beauty of* these scenes is no way comparable 
with their utility ; from hence a hundred riyera 
are supplied, which distribute health antt 
verdure to the various countries through which 
1 they flow. Every part of the universe is beaucio 
I fUl, just, and wise ; but man, vile man, i 
I solecism in nature ; the only monster in 
creation. Tempests and whirlwinds have thrir 
use i but vicious, ungrateful man, ia a blot in thfl 
fair page of universal beauty. Why was I born 
of that detested species, whose vices are alntoM 
a reproach to the wisdom of the divine Creator? 
Were men entirely free from vice, all would be 
uniformity, harmony, and order. A world of 
moral rectitude should be the result of a perfectly 
moral agent. Why, why then, O Alia ! must 
I be thus confmi^d in darkness, doubt, an ' 
despair?" 

Just as he uttered the word despair, he w! 
going to plunge into the lake beneath him, s 
once to satisfy his doubts, and put a period t 
his anxiety, when he perceived ,t most majestk 
being walking on the surface of tlie water, ; 
approaching the bank on which he stood. 
unejtpected an object at once checked his puT" 
pose: he stopped, contemplated, and fancied he 
saw something awful and divine in his aspect. 

" Son of Adam," cried the Genius, *" stOj 
thy rath purpose; tlie Father of the Faithfii 
has seen ihy justice, thy integrity, thy miBcrii 



ASEH, AN EASTERN TALE tgi 

and hath aeot me to afford and adminiater relief. Ai 
Give me thine hand, and follow without trem- 
bling wherever 1 shall lead : in me behold the 
Genius of Conviction, kept by the Great Prophet, 
to turn From their errors those who go astray. 
Dot from curioaity, but a recUtude of intention. 
Follow me, and be wise." 

Asem immediately descended upon the lake, 
and his guide conducted him along ihe surface 
of the water ; till, coming near the centre of the 
lake, tliey both began to sink ; the waters closed 
over their heads ; they descended several hundred 
fathoms, till Aeem, just ready to give up hie life 
as inevitably lost, found himself, with his celestial 
guide, in another world, at the bottom of the 
waters, whwc human foot had never trod before. 
Hii astonishment was beyond description, when 
he saw a sun like that he had left, a serene sky 
over his head, and bloonung verdure under his 
feet. 

" I plainly perceive your amazement," said 
the Genius ; " but suspend it for a while. This 
world was formed by Alia, at the request, and 
under the inspection, of our great Prophet ; who 
once entertained the same doubts which filled 
your mind when I found you, and from the con- 
sequence of which you were so lately rescued. 
The rational inhabitants of this world are formed 
agreeable to your own ideas ; they are absolutely 
without vice. In other respects, ii resemblea 
your earth, but differs from it in being wlioUy 
inhabited by men who never do wrong. If you 
find this world more agreeable than that you so 



L 



(g« ASESt, AK EASTERN TALE 

ca lately left, you have free permission to spend t 
remaiader of your days in it ; but permit me fbt 
some time to attend you, that I may silence yon 
doubts, and mate you belter acquainted witl 
your company and your new habitation." 
> *' A world without vice ! Rational bciii;_ 
without immorality!" cried Asem, in a rapture 
"I thank thee, O Alia! who hast at lengtl 
heard my petitions : this, this indeed will produc 
faappiness, ecstasy, and ease. O, for an immor 
tality, to spend it among men who are incapaU< 
of ingtadtude, injuBtice, fraud, violence, am' 
thousand other crimes that render society mil 
able ! " 

" Cease thine exclamations," replied 
Genius. " Look around thee ; reflect on e* 
object and action before us, and communicau 
me the result of thine observations. Lead wher- 
ever you think proper, I shall be your attendant 
and instructor, Asem and his companion tra'* 
veiled on in silence for some time, the former 
being entirely lost in astonishment ; but at la^ 
recovering his former serenity, he could not beln 
observing, that the face of the country bore ■ 
near resemblance to that he had left, except thai 
this subterranean world still seemed to reta' 
primeval wildness. 

" Here," cried Asem, " I perceive anim: 
prey, and others that seem only designed for tbev 
subsistence ; it in the very same in the worldi 
over our heads. But had I been permitted to 
instruct our Prophet, I would have removed chi« 
defect, and formed no voracious or destructive 



ASEM, AN EASTERN TALE 199 

nals, which only prey on the other parts of AseM 
the creaiion."— " Your tenderness for inferior 
animnls is, I find, remarkable," said the Genius, 
"ling. " But, with regarii to meaner creatures, 
this world exactly reseniblea the other, and, in- 
deed, for obvious reasons ; for the earth can 
support a more considerable number of animals, 
by their thus becoming food for each other, thaa 
if they had lived entirely on the vegetable pro- 
ductions. So that animals of different natures 
thus formetl, instead of lessening their multitude, 
subsist in the greatest number }x>ssible. But let 
uE hasten on to the inhabited country before ua, 
and see what that offers for instruction." 1 

- They soon gained the utmost verge of the 
forest, and entered the country inhabited by men 
without vice ; and Asem anticipated in idea the 
rational delight he hoped to experience in such 
an innocent «ociety. But they had scarce left 
the confines of the wood, when they beheld one 
of the inhabitants tiying witli hasty steps, and 
terror in his countenance, from an army of 
squirrels, that closely pursued him. " Heavens! " 
cfiod Asem, " why does he fly ? What can he 
fear from animals ea contemptible P " He had 
scarce spoken, when he perceived two doge pur- 
suing another of the human species, who with 
«qua[ terror and haste attempted to avoid them. 
•' This," cried Asem to his guide, " is truly sur- 
prising J nor can I conceive the reason for so 
strange an action."-—" Every species of aaimaUi" 
replied the Genius, "has of late grown very 
|)Owuful in tbis coiiajiy.; for the iohi^tiianti^jt 



m ASkM, 'AK~ EASTERN TALE 

n first, thinkiag it unjubt to uae eithcf fuiud t 
force in dcBtroying them, they have i 
increased, and now frequently ravage their harnk 
less frontiers." — " But they should have 1 
deatcoyed," cried Asem ; " you see the coi 
qoence of euch neglect." — " Where is then il 
lendcrness you eo lately expreiued for subordioaf 
animals?" replied the Genius, amiling ; 
seem to have forgot that branch of justice." 
"I must acknowledge my mistake," 
Aaeni : " 1 am now convinced that we must, I 
guilty of tyranny and injustice to the brute cre^ 
tioti, if we would enjoy the world oursdve^ 
But let us no longer observe the duty of n 
these irrational creatures, hut survey iheit 
nectioos with one another." 

Aa they walked farther up the country, 
more he was surprised to see no vestiges of has 
some houses, no cities, nor any mark of elegai 
design. His conductor, perceiving his surpr' 
observed, that the inhabitants of this new world 
were perfectly content with their ancient sim- 
plicity ; each had a house, which, thwigk 
homely, was eufficiem to lodge his littie fninilfii 
they were too good to build houses, which could 
only increase their own pride, and the envy of 
Uie Bpecutor j what they buih was for coQT«a* 
ence, and rwt for show. " At least, then," uid 
Asera, "they have neither architects, painters, 
nor statuaries, in their society ; bat these are 
idle art*, and may be spared. However, beta 
I spend much more time here, you should li 
my thanks for introducing nie into 



ASEM, AN EASTERN TALE 19S 

of some of tlie wisest men : there is scarce any A 
plensurc to me equal to a refined converaation ; 
there is nothing of which I am so eoamoured 
8G wisdom." " Wisdom ! " replied hia in- 
structor, " how ridiculoua ! Wc have no 
wisdom here, for we have no occwion for it; 
true wisdom is only a knowledge of our own 
duty, and the duty of Others to ua ; but of what 
use is such wisdom here i each intuitively per- 
forms what is right in himself, and expects the 
tame from others. If by wisdom you shooU 
mean vain curiosity, and empty speculation, as 
such pleasures have their origin in vanity, luxury, 
or avarice, we are too good to pursue them." 
"All this may be right," says Asem ; "but 
methialis I observe a solitary diiposition prevail 
among the people; each family keeps separately 
within their own precincts, without society, or 
without intercourse." " That indeed is true," 
replied the other ; " here is no established 
■ociety ; nor should tliere be any : all sociedei 
are made either through fear or friendship ; the 
people we are among are too good to fear each 
other ; and there are no motives to private 
fricndshi]), where all are equally meritorious." 
"Well, then," said the sceptic, "as I am to 
spend roy time here, if I am to have neither the 
polite arts, nor wisdom, nor friendship, in such 
a world, I should be glad, at least, of an easy 
companion, who may tell me hit thoughts, and 
to whom I may communicate mine." " And 
to what purpose should either do this ? " »ayi 
the Genius : " flattery or curiosity are viciooi 



VjS RSEW, AW EASTERN TAtE 

A motives, aod nevei allowed of here I aod wisdoM 
IB out of the queetion." 

"Still, however," said Asem, "the lahatni 
ants niUBt be happy ; each is contented with lua 
own possesaiona, nor avariciously endeavours t 
beap up more than is necessary for his i 
listence; each has therefore leisure for pityiid 
thoM that stand in need of his compaaeion.l 
, when his e 

1 wretch whj 
^■ay-side, and in the most deplor 






lal by the w 

distress seemed gently t 
tniaery. Asem tmniediately ran 
and found him io the last stage t 
rioti, "Strange," med- the eon of Ads 
*' that tncnwho are free from vice should t 
suffer so mnch misery without relief! " *' Be 
Dot surprised," said the wretch who wa( 
dying : " would it not be the utmost injuitice 
for beings, who have only just su/ificieQt to 
support themselves, and are content with a bare 
subsistence, to take it from their own mouths to 
put it into mine ? They never are possessed of 
a single meal more than is necessary j and wlui j 
is barely necessary cannot be dispensed with." 
"Theyl should have been supplied with more 
than is. neceesary," cried Asem — " and yet I I 
coDtiadict my own opinion but a moment befi 
— all is doubt, perplexity, and confusion. E 
the want of ingratitude ii no virtue here, i 
they never received a favour. They h 
however, another excellence yet behind ; 
love I of their country is still, I hope, ode 4 



r 



L 



ASEU, AN EASTEHN TALE ig; 

their darling virtuea." " Peace, Aeetn," re- A 
plied the Guardiao, with a countenance not Jcgs 
eesere than beautil'u!, " nor forfeit all thy pre- 
tensions to wisdom : the eame selfisb miuive; 
by which we prefer our own interest to that of 
others, induce us to regard our country pre- 
ferably to that of another. Nothing less than f 
universal benevolence i» free from vice, and that ' 
you see is practised here." "Strange!" crioa 
the disappointed pilgrim, in an agony of distress; 
" what sort of a world am I now introduced to? 
There is scarce a single virtue, but that of 
temperance, which they practise ; and in that 
they are no way superior to the very bruW 
creation. There is scarce an amusement which 
they enjoy j fortitude, jiberaticy, friendship, 
wisdom, conversation, and love of country, all 
are virtues coijrely unknown here: thus it 
seems that to be unacquainted with vice is not 
to know virtue. Take me, O my Genius, 
back to that very world which I have despised : 
3 world which has Alia for its contriver, is 
much more wisely formed than that which has 
been projected by Mahomet. Ingratitude, con- 
tempt, and hatred, I can now suffer, for per- 
haps I have deserved them. When I arraigned 
the wisdom of Providence, I only showed my 
own ignorance ; henceforth let me keep from 
vice myself, and pity it in others," 

He had scarce ended, when the Genius, 
assuming an air of terrible complacency, called 
all his thunders around him, and vanished in a 
whirlwind. Asem, astonished at the terror of 



ASEW, 'SXfTAsresn -tale 

looked fbt hia imaginary worltft 
when, casting his eyes iround, he perceiW 
himself in the very aituation, and i 
place, where he Urst began lo repine and despairs 
hia right foot had been just advanced to t 
the fatal plunge, nor had it been yet witlidrawi 
so instantly did Providence strike the eeries t 
trutliE just imprinted on hia soul, 
departed from the water side in tranqnillit] 
and leaving his horrid mansion, travelled 
Segestan, his native city ; where he dili, 
applied himself to commerce, and put in practid 
that witidam he had learned in solitude, 
frugality of a few years soon produced opuleocB 
mber of his domestics mcreased; 
him from every part of the c 
r them with disdain : and' | 
youth of misery was concluded with a 
of elegance, afflue 




ESSAY IV. 



Eastcheap. 



'yHE iraprovements we make in mental ac- At the 
^ ([uirenients oDly render ua each day more Sttj^ 
Knsible of the defecta of our constitution ; with 
this in view, therel^bre, let us often recur to the 
amusements of youth : endeavour lo forget age 
Hod wisdom, and, u far ae innocence goes, be 
■B much a boy as the bent of them. 

Let idle declaimed mourn over the degener- 
acy of the age : but, in my opinion, every age 
is the same. This I am sure of, that man \a 
every season is a poor fretful being, with no 
Other means to escape the calamities of the 
limcB but by eodeavouring to forget them ; for 
if he utempu to resist, he is certainly undone. 
If I feel poverty and pain, I am not so hardy as 
to cjuarrel with the executioner, even while 
under correction ; I find myself no way dis- 
posed to make fine speeches while 1 am making 
wry faces. In a word, let me drink when the 
6c is on, to make me bsensible : and drink 
when it i» over, for joy that 1 feel pain no 



aoo A REVERIE 

At the The character of old Falataff, even wiih s 
Boaiajj^s faults, gives me more consolation than tl-, 
most studied efforts of wisdom. 1 here beholj 
an agreeable old fellow, forgetting age, 
showing me the way to be young at Hixty-fiv« 
Sure, I am well able to be as merry, thou^ 
not so comical as he. Is it not in my power tt 
have, though not so much wit, at least ai 
vivacity ? — Age, care, wisdom, refl 
begone — I give you to the winds ! Let's hare ' 
t'other bottle : here's to the memory of Shak^ 
*•" ■'' spear, FalstafF, and all the merry men of EaA- 
■j;^;. cheap. ' 

Sucli were the reflections that naturally araae 
while I sal at the Boer's-Head Tavern, still kept 
at Easrcheap. Here, by a pleasant fire, ia the 
very room where old Sir John Falstaff cracked 
his jokes, in the very chair which wai 
sometimes honoured by Prince Heni^, and 
sometimes polluted by his immoral merry 
companions, I sat and ruminated on the (blHoi 
of youth j wished to be young again; hut wu 
r«soIved to make the best of life while it laatedf 
and now and then compared past and prei 
ames together. I considered myself as ■ 
only living representative of the old knight, a 
transported my imagination back to the tin 
when the Prince and he gave life to the reVe 
and made even debauchery not disgusting. Thi 
room also conspired to throw my reflections I: 
into antiquity : the oak floor, the Oothic i 
daws, and the ponderous chimney-piece, : 
■ g withstood the tooih of time ; the watohw 




A REVERIE 30I 

had gone Cwcli'e*; my contpanions had all stolen At thft 
off: and none now remained with me but the Bo**'* 
landlord. From, him I could have wished w "•" 
know the history of a tavern, that had atich a 
long succession of customers ; I could not help 
thinking that an account of this kind would be a 

El easing contrast of the manners of different ages ; 
ut my landlord could give me no information. 
He continued lo doze and sot, and tell a tedious 
story, as most other landlords usually du, and 
though he said nothing, yet was never silent. 
One good joke followed another good joke ; and 
ihe best joke of all was generally begun towards 
the end of a bottle. 1 found at last, however, 
his wine and his conversation operate by degrees. 
He insensibly began to alter his appearance ; his 
cravat seemed c|uilled into a rulF, and his bi'eecheG 
swelled out into a fardingale. I now fancied 
him changing sexes; and as my eyes began w> 
dose in slumber, I imagined my fat landlord 
actually converted into as fat a landlady. How- 
ever, sleep made but few changes in my situation : 
the tavern, the apartment, and the table, con- 
tinued as before; nothing suffered mutation but 
my hoil, who was fairly altered inU> a gentle- 
woman, whom 1 knew to be Dame Quickly, 
tniittess of this tavern in the days of Sir John ; 
and tbe liquor we were drinking seemed Con- 
verted into sack and sugar. 

" My dear Mrs Quickly," cried I (for I knew 
her perfectly well at first sight), "I am heartily 
^ad to see you. How have you left Falstaff, 
Pistol, and the rest of our friends below stairs? 



H«d|, 



aoi S REVERIE 

At the Binve and hearty, 1 hope ! "—" In good eooth,'4 
Bqar'a rejjiied alie, " lie did deKerve to live for 

aketh foul work on't where he hath flitted 
Queen Proserpiae and he have quarrelled for 
attempting a rape upon her divinity ; and ' 
DOC that she still had bowels of compassion, 
more than seems probable he might have 
now sprawling in TartafUB," 

I cow found that spirits still prcserre 
frailties of the flesh ; and that, according to ' 
laws of criticism and dreaming, ghosts have ' 
known lo be guilty of even more thaO plat 
affection ; wherefore, as I found her too 
moved on such a topic to proceed, I waa 
solved to change the subject, and desinng 
would pledge me in a bumper, observed, with i 
sigh, tliat our sack was nothing now to what 
was in former days : " Ah, Mrs Quickly, cho 
were merry times when you drew sack 
Prince Henry : men were twice as strong, 
twice as wise, and much braver, and ten thou- 
sand times more charitable, than now. Those 
were the times! I'he battle of Agincourt was 
a victory indeed ! Ever since that we have only 
been degenerating ; and I have lived to see the 
day when drinking is no longer fashionable i whea 
men wear dean shirts, and women show their 
necks and arms. All are degenerated* M» 
Quickly ; and we shall probably, in anotfasr 
century, be frittered away into beaux or moii> 
keys. Had yoa been on earth to see what I 
have seen, it would congeal all the blood in youi 
body — your soul, I mean. Why, our vetj 



r 



A REVERIE 303 

pobiliiy now have the intolerable arrogance, in AtUw 
spite of what is every day remonstrated iVom the S"*"!" 
press— our very nobility, I say, have the asBUr- "•■'' 
ance to frequent asGemhlics, and presume to be 
as merry as the vulgar. See, my very friends 
have scarce manhood enough to ait to it till 
eleven ; and I only am left to make a night on't. 
Prithee do me the favour to console me a little 
for their absence by the Btory of your own 
adventures, or the history of die tavern where 
we are now sitUng : 1 fancy the narrnuve may 
have something singular." 
! " Observe this apartment," interrupted my 
companion ; " of neat device, and excellent 
workmanship : in this room I have lived, child^ 
woman, and ghost, more than three hundred 
years : I am ordered by Pluto to keep an annual 
register of every transaction that passed here { 
and I have wilhom compiled three hundred 
tomes, which eftaoonb may be submitted to thy 
regardB." — " None of your wilhoms or eftsoons, 
Mrs Quickly, if yoa please," I rejJied ; *' I 
know you can Calk every whit as well as I can ; 
lor, as you have lived here so long, it is but 
natural to luppose you should leam the con- 
verbation of the company. Believe me, dame, 
Bt best you have neither too much sense, 
nor too much language to spare ; so give me 
both a* well as you can : but first, my ser- 
vice to you ; old women should water the4r 
clay a litUe now and then ; and now to your 
Btory." 

" The sioty of my own adTeiKures," replied 



At the me your liistory at once. I love stories, but hal 

^J" ^reasoning." 
newi 1, £f you please, theo, Sir," returned my cont 
panioDi "I'll read you an abstract, which Imadeol 
the three hundred volumes I mentioned just d 
" My body was no sooner laid in the d 
than the prior and several of hia convent c; 
to purify the tavern from the polludone i 
which ihey said I had fiHed it. Masses v 
said in every room, relics were exposed u 
every piece of furniture, and the whole boiu 
washed with a deluge of holy-water. My halw 
tatiun was sooo converted inU) a monanccjri 
instead of cuatumers nOw applying for sack aa 
sugar, my rooms were crowded with ixiMge 
relics, saints, whores, and friars. Instead < 
being a sceoe of occasional debauchery, it wl 
now filled with continual lewdness. 1 he p 
led the fashion, and the whole convent imitate 
his pious example. Matrons came hither 1 
confeaa their sins, and to commit new : virgii 
came hither who seldom went virgins away 
Nor was this a convent peculiarly wicked ; ever] 
convent at that period was equally fond of jJea 
Sure, and gave a boundless loose to appetilt 
The laws allowed it ; each priest bad a right V 
a favourite companion, and a power of discardio 
her 3B often as he pleased. The laity gnunUcK 
quarrelled with their wives and daughters, haw 
their confessors — and maintained thera in 
lence and caae.^-Thesc, these were happy ti .— ^_ 
Mr Rigmarole! these were times of pietj 
bravery, aod simplicity ! " 



^ Head 



A REVERIE io7 

" Not BO very happy, neither, good Madam j At the 
pretty much like the preeeDt, — ihoee that labour °**^* 
starve, aad thoee that do nothing 
clothcB and live in luxury." 

" In thia manner the fathers lived for some 
years without molestation ; they tranegresEed, 
coofeBsed themselves to each other, and were 
forgiven. One evening, however, our prior 
keeping a lady of distinction somewhat too long 
at confession, her husband unexpectedly came 
upon them, and testified all the indignation which 
was natural upon such an occasion. The prior 
assured the gentleman that it was the devil who 
put it into his heart; and the lady was very 
certain that slie was under the influence of 
magic, or she could never have behaved in so 
unfaithful a manner. The husband, however^ 
was not to be put olf by such evasions, but 
aommoned both before the tribunal of justice. 
His proofs were flagrant, and he expected large 
damages. >Such, indeed, he had a right to ex- 
pect, were the tribunals of those days constituted 
in the same manner as they are now. The cause 
of the priest was to be tried before an assembly 
of priests ; »nd a layman was to expect redress 
only from their impartiality and candour. What 
plea, then, do you think the prior made lo obviate 
ihi> accusation ! He denied the fact, and chal- 
lenged the plaintiff' to try the merits of their 
cause by single combat. It was a little hard, 
you may be sure, upon the poor gentleman, not 
only to be made a cuckold, but to be obliged to 
fight a duel into the bargain ; yet audi was the 



1 



r 



H«df, 



loS A REVERIE 

At the justice of the times. The prior threw d 

and the injured huaband was obliged 
cake it up, in token of his accepting the challenge 

" Upon this the priest supplied hia chamjnc 
for it was not lawfm for the clergy to fight; ai 
the defendant and plaintilf, according to 
were put in prison ; both ordered to : 
pray, every method being previously used 
induce both to a confession of the trittli. Af 
a month's imprisonment, the haii' of each wi 
cut, their bodies anointed with oil, die field < 
batde appointed and guarded by soldtere, whi 
his majesty presided over the whole in person. 
Both the charapiona were sworn not to seek 
victory either by fraud or magic, Tbey prayed 
and confetecd upon their knees ; and after tbCM 
ceremonies, the rest was left to the conragB and 
conduct of the combatants. As the chanifnoti 
whom the prior had pitched upon had foi^hc 
six or eight times upon similar occasions, it was 
w) way extraordinary to find him victorious ia 
the present combat. In bhort the husband W9f 
discomfited ; he was taken from the fieid of 
batde, stripped to his shirt, and afwr one of hii 
legs was cut off, as justice ordained in such CSMI, 
he was hanged as a terror to future otfimderi. — 
These, these were the times, Mr Rigmarole ! 
you see how much more Just, and wise, aai 
valiant, our ancestors were than us I" 

" I rather fancy. Madam, that the times then 
were pretty much like our own; where a niutii* 
plicity of laws give, a judge as much power 
18 a want of law, since he is ever sure to 6nd 



A RBVERIE 309 

among the number some Co coimteaiiitcc < his A 
pariidity." » 

. "Our convent, victorious over their enemies, 
noWi gave a loose to every demonstration of joy. 
The lady became a. nun, tbe prior was madeia 
bishop, and three Wick I ifli tea were buried in the 
illnmiDBiions and fire-works that were made on 
the present occasion. 

Our convent now began to enjoy a. very high 
degree of reputation. There was not one in 
London that had the character of hating heretic^ 

D much as ours. Ladies of the tiret dmtlnctioq 
chose from, oor convent their confcasorB. In 
short, it flourished, and might have tiouriEhecl 

o this hour, but for a fatal accident which ter- 
minated in itiovertlirow. The lady, whom the 
prior had placed in a nunnery, and whom be 
continued to visit for some time with great 
punctuality, began at last to perceive that ihe 
was quite forsaken. Secluded from conVcrsa- 
tion, as usual, she now entertained the visions of 
a devotee ; found liersdf strangely disturbed ( 
but hentated in determining whether she was 
poasesaed by an angel or a demon. She was 
not long in suspense ; for upon vomiting a large 
qaantity of crooked pins, and tinding the palms 
of her hands turned outwuds, she quickly con- 
cluded that she was possessed by tbe devil. Sbe 
soon lost entirely the use of apcech ; and'*beh 
she seemed to speak, everybody that was present 
perceived thai her voice was not her own, but 
that of the devil withtn her. In abort, she wa« 
bewitched; and all the difficulty lay in deter- 



r 



liD 



A" "REffBWE 



At Itak miiiiDg who it could be that bewitched 
Bo^The nuns and the monks all demanded 

magician's name, but the devil made no te^y, 
for he knew they had no authority to aak.^t 
Oons, By the rules of witchcraft, when an ■ 
spirit has taken possession, he may refuse 
answer any questions asked him, unless they 
put by a bishop, and to these he is obliged 
reply. A bishop, therefore, was sect for, 
now the whole secret came out ; the deril 
ketantly owned that he waa a serrai 
prior ! diat by his command he tcsid 
present habitation, and that without his 
he was resolved to keep in poasession. Tfae 
bishop was an able exorcist ; he drove the>de«il 
out by force of mystical arms: the prior was 
arraigned for witchcraft ; the wrtoesses. wen 
Strong and numerous against him, Dot less thoD 
fourteen persons being by, who heard the derfl 
talk Latin. There was no resisting Buch.a eland 
of witnesses : the prior was condemiwd ; and be 
who had assisted at so many burnings, was burned 
himself in turn.— These were times, Mr Rig- 
marole ! the people of those times were not sd^ 
fidels, as now, but sincere behevers! " . . 

" Equally faulty with ourselves, they belieTwl 
what the devil was pleased to tell them ; and tte 
seem resolved, at last, to believe neither God """ 

" After such a stain upon the convent, it 
not to be supposed it could subsist any loi 
the father! were ordered to decamp, and 
house was once again converted into 



A REVERIE 3(1 

The king conrerred it on one of his cast At the 
mistretaes ; she was constituted landlady by 5'*j' 
royal authority ; lad as the tavern wm ia the "■" 
neighbourhood of the court, and the mistreM 
very polite woman, it began to ha»e more 
business than ever, and somelifneE took dot le*t 
than four shillings a-day. 

' But pethapij you are desirous of Itoowing 
what were the peculiar quali^cationa of women 
of fashion at that period ; and in a description of 
the piesent landlady, you will have a tolerable 
idea of all the rest. This lady was the daughter 

1 nobleman, and received such an education 
in the country as became her quality, beauty, 
and great expectBtiona. She could make shi^ 
and hose for herself and all the servants of the 
family, when she was twelve years old. She 
knew the names of the four-and' twenty letters, 
so that it was impossible to bewitch her ; and 
was a greater piece of learning than any 
lady in the whole country could pretend to. 
She was always up early, and saw breakfast 
served in the great hall by six o'clock. At this 
scene of festivity, she generally improved good 
humour by telling her dreama, relating stories of 
spirits, several of which she herself had seen, 
snd one of which she was reported to have 
killed with a black-hafted kntfe. From hence 
usually went to make pastry in the larder, 
and here she was followed by her sweethearts, 
who were much hrJped on in conversation by 

ggling with her for kisses. About ten, miu 
generally went to play at hot-cockles and blind- 



iti JI"S£V£3tt£ 

Attlw maa's-btiif in the parlour ; and when iha yaun^ 
^^ folks (for thay sddom played at hot-cockia 
"^ when grown old) were tired of each 3nriute4 
menCs, ih? gentlemea entertained oubi <with t' 
hiitory of their greyhounds, bwar-baitingB, x 
victorJDi ab cud gelif laying. If the weather t> 
fine, they ran at the ring, and shot at buOa^ 
whilemisE held in h^r hand a rilibon, with whici 
Bheiattoroed the conqueror. H^r mental qua) 
ficaticms were exactly fitted lo her extecn 
accomplishnieots. Before she was liiteei^ al 
could tell the Gtory of Jack the Gi&nt Killeii 
could Dame every mouQiain that whe inhabateii 
by fairies, knew a witch at first uight, and caul ' 
repeat four Latin prayers without a prompte 
Her dresH was perfectly feshiocahle ; her am 
asd her hair were completely covered !■ ■ 
DiODstrous ruff was put round her neck, «o thi 
her head seemed like that of John the itaptil 
j^ced in a charger. In short, when completely 
equipped, hec appearance was ao very mode^' 
that she discovered little more than her dos«. 
—These were the times, Mr Rigmarole! Vritea 
every iady that had a good nose might set up far 
a beauty ; when every woman that couii tell 
stories might be cried up for a wit I '' 

" 1 am aa much displeased at those dresHi 
which conceal too much, as at thoae which dis- 
cover too much ; I am equally an enemy to % 
female dunce or a female pedant." 

■" Yott may be sure that mist choie a hus 
with qonMcations retcmbjing her owa4 
ptechcd upon a courtier, equally rcmarkabte I 




r 



ai hevjEhie lis 

bunliog. and idnnking, who had given. severaJ Atthfa 
proofs of hie great virility among .the daogbtera 5^^* 
of his tenants and domestic*. They fell in love ™" 
at first sight (tor each was the gallantry of the 
times), were married, came to court, and madam 
appeared with stiperior qualifications. The kii^ 
was struck with her benucy^. All property .was 
at the king's coniraand; the husband was obliged 
to resign, all pretensions in his <wife to the soioru 
eign, whom, God had anointed!io«*mmit.adB]terp 
where he thought propcci. The kingJoved hei 
for some lime ; but at lengiii, repenting of hit 
miadeedsiand inatij;Ated by his latbcr-confcsaor, 
from a principleof conscience, removed her from 
his levee to the bar. of this tavern, and look, a 
nem miBtresein her atcad. Let. it not aurpriic 
yoit to> heboid the mistreisa of a kin); degraded to 
BO humble an office. An the ladies had ite 
RKOtal aecorapliEhnieiits, a good face was onoagh 
to raire ibom to *hc royal eouch; and she who 
was tiiit* day 3' rojtal . miMress, might the next, 
when her beauty palled . upon enjoyroem, bfe 
doomed to in&my and want. 
; " Under (he ewe.of this lady the tavern' grew 
into great reputation ; the courtiers had not vat 
learned K> game, but they paid'itoff Lydrinkingit 
(kiinkennesB is eTcr the vice of a barbarous, and 
gaming of it luKurioui, age. They had not soch 
frequent antertaiomentH.aslthe moderns. have, but 
were more expensive and more luxurious in tjiosf 
they had. All their fooleries were more elabor> 
Bte, and more admired by the gre-at and the 
trulgar, than now. A courtier has been known to 



lU A' KEVHKtfi 

At the ipend hia whole fortune at a single fcast, a. kin^j 
"■* ' lo mortgage his dominioDa u> furnish out th« 
frippery of a tournament. There were certain ' 
days appointed for riot and debauchery, and to b*! 
sober at such times was reputed ■ crime. KtDf 
themselves set the example ; and I have see 
nionarchs, in this room, drunk before the en[er-<l 
tainment was half concluded. — These w 
times, Sir, when kings kept mistresses, and gocl 
drubk in puUic ; they were too plain attd liiupl' 
in those happy times to hide their vices, at»d 
the hypocrite, as now." — 

"Lord! Mrs Quickly" (interrupting her)| 
" I expected to have heard a story, and here yt ' 
are going to tell me I know not what of timi 
atid vices ! prithee let me entreat thee, one 
more, to waive reflections, and give thy histor 
without deviation." 

" No lady upon earth," continued my visii 
ary correspondent, " knew bow to put off 
damaged wine or women with more art thm she. 
When these grew flat, or those paltry, it Wa» but 
changing the names ; the wine became excellent, 
■nd the girls agreeable. She was also possessed 
of the engaging leer, the chuck under the chin, 
winked at a doable-entendre, could nick the 
opportunity of calling for aomething comfortable, 
and perfectly understood the discreet momentt 
when to withdraw. The gallants of these tuna 
pretty much resembled the bloods of ours ; tknej 
were food of pleasure, but quite ignoram. of tbc 
art of refining upon it : thus a court bawd of 
those times resembled the common low-lived 



A REVERIE 315 

harridan of a moderD bagnio. Witness, ye At tlw 
powers of debauchery, how often I have been 5°"^'' 
jwesent at the various appearances of dninlccn- "*™ 
neas, riot, gujlt, and brutalily ! A tavern is the 
true pictnre of human infirmity : in hiatory we 



} 



,1,1,0 



■ side of the 9 



Hew i but in the 



of a 



ooery age equally absurd and etjually iFicionB, 
, " Upon this lady's decease, the tavern wm 
^ccesBiTcly occiqiied by adTCnturera, bullies, 
pimps, and gamesters. Tourards the eonclusioD 
of the reign of Henry VII., gaming was more 
oniversally practitcd in England than even sow. 
Kings themselves have been known to play off 
at Primero, not only al! the money and jeweU 
they could part with, but the very images in 
churches. The last Henry played away, in 
this very room, not only the four great bells of St 
Pwd's Cathedra!, but the tine image of Hi Paul, 
which stood upon the top of the sjnre, to Sir 
Miles Partridge, who took them down the next 
day, and w>ld them by auction. Have you, 
then, any cause to regret being bom in the timel 
jKni now live P or do you still believe that 
human nature continues to ran on decliciDg 
every age ? If we observe the actions of the 
busy part of mankind, your ancestors will be 
found iniinitcly more gross, servile, and even 
dishonest, than yon. If, forsaking history, we 
only trace them in their hotirs of amusement or 
dissipation, we shall find tbem more sensual, 
more entirely devoted to pleasure, and infinitely 
more selfish. 



lie 



A'HEVESIE 



Head, 



Atth* ".The last hostess of note I find upoari 
* wa» .lane Rouse. She was born among t 
lower ranks of the p«ople ; and by iiugalky a: 
extreme complaisance, contrived to acquire-ii 
moderate fortune : this she might have enjoyed 
for many years, had she not unfortuoateljl 
quarreJIed witb one of her ueighboura, a MOfDM 
who was its high repute for sanctity through ti 
whole parish. In the times of which' I B|>eal^ 
two women seldom quarrelled, that one ^ 
not accuse the other of witchcraft, and she wtiq 
first contrived to vomit croaked pioB^iwasH 
to come off victorioiiB. The scandal .«r.-i 
modern les-table differs widely from the si 
of former times : the fascination of a ladyfa 
eyes at present, ia regarded as a compltmenttil 
but if a lady, formerly, sholild be accutel of 
having witchcraft in her eyes, it were much 
better, both Cor her soul and body, that ' die 
had no eyes at .*l\. In sboi't, Jane Rouse « 
accused of witchcra&i and though she in^ 
tlie best defence she could, it "was all. to no 
gnttpose : she was taken from her own bar tO 
the bar of the Old Bailey, condemned, and 
executed accordingly. — These were 'timeai 
indeed, when euin women could not scold in 

r " Since her time, tlie tavern underwent several 
rerolutiont, according to the spirit of the timeii, 
or the.diapDiiitioa of the reigning monarch. It 
Wm this day a beothe), and the next a con- 
venticle for enttnuiastft. It was oae year noted 
for harbouring whigs, and the next, iofamoua 



J 



A REVERIE 217 

for a retreat to tories. Some years ago it was At the 
in high vogue, but at present it seems declining. 5^^* 
This only may be remarked, in general, that 
whenever taverns flourish most, the times are 
then most extravagant and luxurious." — 
" Lord ! MxsL Quic^y ! '* interrupted I, 

jcS^^edPiiie ; I expected a 



**you have really decSwcT'me; I expected a 

romance, and here you have been this half 

hour. ;givin^l mc^ onlyi a' description } of :tW spirit 

of the times : if you have nothing but tedious 

Fcnarka < '40il ^«ofhmuncatev f se^k ^ BOtad '• 6th^r A 

heaie^ ; !» «ni nobterniiD^' >4io * -heairken / tmly to >j«'^oi-8 
. . ,, r I ••' . i9vr!*i 

' ' li duid .scarce toackded, w^en ^my /eyes md 
ears seemed • opened to 'my landlord, who^'hii 
bdeni ail this while giving -me aniacc<Mmtof the 
repairs he -had inade in 'the kottbe,* ^and was 
now god into:: the 'stor^: of thetraokiid glass-id 
tbediniDg-i'ooni/io wn^^ w..-.- M\'^ ^^u v: !:.;i 
»'i' iflv/ \^> .' ' ' 'il.i. -.i:; ;.: ^?-\\'i^A M'|i .() '♦(:.» nty 

*i; bf=/ :>'. 5. ', :) ilji. i<»«|o Ii:!i.i r»r. ,'!^ ..rj'; 

f;-.'' • .rj(>!!j. •;/!")> :•«•■•: i'M. ;.,".. ;^j j 

■. .! . •■. '•firl'jiT.I f" '. •■ ».' ■ ••"» .^oiil '• •/. 

-: J ;'i:rr: . .' . : • ■ •• /iI .1- ,;: .r.t'i-. 

r'. • •• ■ ;: <-.. /ir- 'J. ;i;' •• ■•.••. I h. ..<• ,! .. ■' 



• .\ 









L Stkoljjnc Plaver. 



) be found i and wit, thtnio| 



Park, about tlie hour in which company lea 
it to go to dinner. There were but few in 
walks, and those who stayed eeemed, by I 



■ wilUng to forget that t 



looks, rather r 

had an appetite, than gain one. I sat dow^ 
OD one of the benches, at the other end of which 
was seated a man in very shabby clothes. 

We continued u> groan, to hem, and to 
cough, as usual upon auch occasions ; and at 
last Tentured upon conversation. " I beg 
pardon. Sir," cried I, " but I think I hare 
seen you before ; your face is familiar lo me." 
— " Yea, Sir," replied he, " 1 have a good 
familiar face, as my friends tell me. I am at 
well known in every town in lingland, as the 
dromedary or live crocodile. You must under- 
stand, Sir, that I have been these sixteen ycart 
Merry Andrew to a puppet-show : last Bar- 
tholomew Fair my mjster and I quarrelled, 



I A STROLLING PLAYER 119 

^fceat each other, and parted ; he to sell his A 
i-imppets to the pincushion-makere in Rosemary StroWog 
: tSr..d I to Lr,, b S, J^.', P,rk." "V 

I . ■ " I am Borry, Sir, that a person of your ap- 

rarance iihouid labour under any difficulties." — 
Oh, Sir," returned he, " my appearance it 
yery much at your service ; but, though I 
', cannot boast of eating much, yet there are few 
that are merrier: if I h»d twenty thouBand a- 
' fbit I should be very merry ; sod, thank the 
btes ! though not worth a groat, L am very 
; merry srill. If I have threepence in my 
pocket, I never refuBe to be my three-half- 
pence ; and if I have no money, I never scorn 
;tB be treated t)y any that are kind enough to 
■pay my reckoning. What think you, Sir, of 
, » steak and a tankard ? You shall treat me 
'thv; and I will treat you again, when I tind 
; jbn in the Park in love with eating, and with- 
.1 out money to pay for a dinner," 

' As I never refuse a gmall expense for the 
I take of a merry companion, we instantly ad* 
loumed to a neighbouring alehouse, aod in a 
lew moments had a frothing tankard and a 
'' bmoking steak spread on the table before n». 
it is impossible to express how much the sight 
• ef such good cheer improved my companion's 
jwacity. "I like this dinner, Sir," says he, 
I M for tliree reasons : first, because I am nalur- 
Lally fond of beef; secondly, because 1 am 
"limgryi and, thirdly and lastly, because I get 
lifbr nothing; no melt e9t« to sweet as that 
' r which we do not pay." 




?»o A- STBOLLING rPUSTER 

A ' He Oiereforc now fcll-to, and hia 
StwHwB seemed tO' correspond with his int 
*'■»»«■ After dinner was over, he observed chat 
steak w»s tough ; '^ and yet, Sir," 
" bad ai it WBS, it seemed a lump-steak 
O, the delights of poverty and a good appetJIe'i 
We beggars are tire very fondlings of Naturet 
the rieh she treats iike an arrant step-mother) . 
they are. pleaMd. with nothiog: 'Cvt » stok' 
from what piarl you will, and il is in&uppoi 
tough: dress it up with picklea,— -even 
cannot procure them an appetite. ' Btit 
whole creation is filed with good things jSac dlf 
beggar ; Cakert's butt oui-tasCes ChampBga^ 
and SedgeJey's home-brewed excels Tok^ 
Joy, joy, my blood ! though our estates nc 
[K)wliere, we have fortunea wherever we go. 
If an. iimtKlaiion nweeps nway half the grotwU 
of luorDwall) I am content — I haVe no lasdi 
there; if the stocks sink, that gives . me HO 
uneasiness — I am ,no Jew." The feliow'i 
vivacity, joined to his poverty, 1 own,' raitsd 
my. curiosity to know something of hia life m4 
circumstances ; and I entreated that he would 
indulge my desire. ". That I will, Sir," «uil 
he, "and welcome; only let us drink le 
prevent our sleeping : let us have another 
lankafd while we are awake — let us haw 
another tankard ; for, ah, how charnting ■ 
tankald looks when iiUl ! i 

"Vqu rouit , know, then, that l.um very wdl 
deaeendedi iny.ancestori have. made Bome obix 
in the world ; for my nwihef cried oy4t«nt, atd 



A STROLLING PLAYER 

my faifaer t>eat a dram : I am told we have A 
;vED had some trumpeterfl in our family. Many ^ 
I nobleman cannot show so regpeciful a gene- "•■" 
iiogy ; but that is neither here nor there. As 
I was their only child, my (-ather designed to 
breed tne up to his own employment, which Was 
that of drummer lo a puppet-show. Thus the 
whole empioymPnt of my younrer years w.is 
that of interpreter to Punch and King Solornon 
IB al! his glory. But though my father was very 
fond of instructing me in beating all the marches 
and points of war, I made no TCry great progrcsB, 
hecausc I naturally liad do ear for music -, so at 
the age of fifteen, 1 went and listed for a soldier. 
As I had ever hated heaung a drum, so I eooo 
found that 1 disliked carrying a musket also ; 
neither the one trade nor ihe other were to my 
te, for r was l^ nature fond of bdng a gentle- 
man : besides, I was obliged to obey niy captain r 
he has his will, I have mine, and you have 
yours ; now I very reasonably concluded, thai 
' was mnch more coaifbrtable for a man to obey 
( own will than another'*, 
" The life of B soldier noon, therefore, gave' 
e the spleen. I Mked leave to quit the serw 
;e ; but as I was tall and strong, my captain 
thanked me for my kind intention, and eaid^ 
because he had a regard for me, we should ttoi 
prt, I wrote to my father * very dismal peni* 
It letter, and desired that he would raise money 
pay for my discharge ; but rhe good man wa* 
as fond ol drinking as 1 was {.Sir, my servitre to 
you), and those who are fond of drinking nevai' 






A STHOLUNG PUITER 



1 



A pay for other people'e discharges ; in short, b* 

liOE never answered my letter. What coiJd bedone? 

J*' If I have not money, »aid I to myself, to pay 

for my discharge, I must find an equivalent some 

Other way ; and thai must be by cunning a.way. 

1 deserted, and that answered my purpose crei!^ 

bitas well ae if I had bought my discharge. ^ 

» Well, I was now fairjy rid ,of my [nillt]ri^ 



enployjn< 
worse, an 
the most i 
evening, s 



'1 



1 I sold my soldier's clothes, botigfat 
in order not to be overtaken, took 
in frequented roads possible. One 
e I was entering a village, I fierceited 
a man, wAom I afterwards found to be the ■ 
of the parish, thrown from his horse ii 
road, and almost smothered in the mu 
desired my assistance ; I gave it, and drew k 
out with some difficulty. He thanked me for 
my trouble, and was going olF, but I followed 
him home, for I loved always to have a msta 
thank me at his own door. The curate sakfll 
an hundred questions ; as, whose son I i 
from whence J came i and whether I i 
Faithful. I answered him greatly to his s; 
tion, and gave myself one of the best charat:) 
in the world for sobriety (Sir, I have the hot 
of drinking your health), discretion, and lldell 
To make a long story short, he wanted a 
and hired me. With him I lived but t^ 
we did not much like each other. I was f 
of eating, and he gave me but little t 
loved a pretty girl, and the old womaa, i 
fcliow-servant, was ill-natured and ugljr, 
tbey eotleavoured to starve me between tli« 



A STROLLING PLAYER asj 

made 3 piouB reiolution to prevent their com- <_ 
mitting murder : I stole the eggs a« aoon as they §?*''''"lfj 
were laid [ I emptied every unfiniahed bottle *^ '*' 
that I could lay my hands on ; whatever eatable 
came in my way was sure to disappear,— in 
short, they found I would not do ; so I was 
discharged one morning, and paid three shillingi 
and sixpence for two months' wages. 

" While my money .was getting ready, I em- 
ployed myself in making preparations for my de« 
parture. Two hens were hatching in an outhouse 
—I went and habitually took the eggs, and not 
to separate the parents from the children, I 
lodged hens and all in nty koapsack. After this 
piece of frugality, I returned to receive my 
money, and with my knapsack on my back, and 
a «taff in my hand, I bid adieu, with tears in my 
eyes, to my old benefactor. I had not gone far 
from the house when I heard behind me the cry 
of "Stop thief!' but this only increased my 
despatch : it would have been fooliih to stop, is 
I knew the voice could not be levelled at me. — 
But. hold, I think I passed those two months at 
the curate's without drinking. Come, the time* 
are dry, and may this be my poison, if ever I 
spent two more pious, stupid months in all my 
life! 

" Well, after travelling some days, whom 
should 1 light upon but a company of strolling 
players. The moment I saw them at a distance, 
my heart warmed to tliem ; I had a sort of 
natural love forererythingof the vagabond order. 
They were employed in sWtling their baggage. 



*J4 « -sTHOLcmc ■wynrEW 

A which had been overturned in a narrow way. 
Sfirolling offe/cd my assistance, which they accepted; 
P»y*^ we BOQn became so well acquainted, that 



i 



-"Z 



took me as a iervant, This waa a paraxlisell 
me ; they sang, danced, drank, eat, and travellBq_ 
all-at the same tim*. Dy the bicxwl of the Miif- 
abels, I thought I had never lived till then : I 
grew 3B merry as a grigi and laughed at every 
word that was spoken. They hked n 
siT'I liked them: I was a serygood f 
you ■ 'See 1 and though I was poor, "^ 
mctdese. 

I " I love a straggling life above all things v 
the world ; sometimes good^ eoraelimes bad ; b 
be warm to-day, and cold to-niorrow ! to eat 
when one can get it, and drink when — 
tankard is out) — it stands before i 
arrived that evening at Tenterden, and took a 
large room at the Greyhound, where we resolved 
to exhibit Romeo and Juliet, with the; funeral 
process ion, the grave, and the garden scene. 
Romeo was to be performed by a getitleman 
from the Theatre-Royal in Drury Lane ( Juliet, 
by a lady who had never appeared on any 
stage before; and I was to snuff the candles: 
all excellent in our way. We had figurei 
enough, but the difficulty was to dress them. 
The same coat that served Romeo, turned with 
the blue lining outwards, served for his friend 
Merciuio ; a large juece of crape saffiecd at onc^ 
for Juliet'it petticoat and pall ; a pesde and a 
utr^ from a neightotiring apothecary's, an 
all the piu'poses of a bell ; aod our lac 



e ant i auei 



^^CJ^iigiLiL ILilllM m I 

n family, wrapped in while sheets, served to A 

up the pi'ocesHion. In short, there were but §1^2*8 
three figures among ua that might be said to he ^ i 
dressed with any propriety, — I mean the nur«e, , 

the starved apothecary, and myself. Our per- 
formance gave universal satiefacUon : the whole I 
audience were enchanted with our powers, and 
Tenterdec is a town of taste. I 

"There is one rule by which a strolling I 

player may be ever secure of success ; that is, '' 

in our theatrical way of expressing it, to make a i 

great deal of the character. To speak and act 
as in common life, is not playing, nor is it what i 

people come to see : natural speaking, like sweet 
wine, runs glibly over tlie palate, and scarce 
leaves any usw behind it ; but being high in a 
part resembles vinegar, which grates upon the 
laate, and one feels it while he is drinking. To 
please in town or country, the way is to cry, 
wring, cringe into attitudes, mark the emphasis, 
slap the pockets, and labour like one in the 
falling sickness ; that is the way to work for 
applause ; that is the way to gain it. 

" As we received much reputation for our 
skill on this first exhibition, it was but natural 
for me to ascribe part of the success to myself: 
1 snuifed the candles, and, let me tell you, that 
without a candle- snuffer, the piece would lose 
half its embellishments. In this manner we 
continued a fortnight, and drew tolerable houses; 
hut the evening before our intended depuriure, 
we gave out our very best piece, in which all 
our strength was to be exerted. We had great 



r 






a-STROLl.mG PLATER 



A expectadoDS from this, and even douMed t 
Strolling prices ; when behold one of [he principal acta 
Play« fell ill of a violent fever. This was a Mroke U* 
thunder to our litdc company : they \ 
solved to go in a body, to scold the man for fjj^ 
ing sick at so inconvenient a time, and that, U 
of a disorder that threatened to be expensive tM 
seized the moment, and offered to ac 
myself in his stead. The case was desperati 
they accepted my offer ; and I accordingly ■ 
down, with the part in my hand, and a tanlu' 
before me (Sir, your health), and studied I 
character, which was to be rehearsed the t 
day, and played soon after. 

"I found my memory excessively helpe<t4 
drinking : 1 leoiited my part with astonisUfl 
rapidity, and bid adieu to snuffing candles e 
after, I found that nature had designed ' 
for moie noble employments, and I was resoli^ 
to take her when in the humour. V 
gether, in order to rehearse ; and I informed tf 
companions — masters now no longer — 
surprising change 1 felt within me. ' Lm t 
sick man,' said I, 'be under no uneasiiiesA i| 
get well again : I'U fill his place to un 
sa,tisf3ction ; he may even die if he 
proper; I'll engage that he shall tiev 
missed.' I rehearsed before them, stnitted, 
ranted, and received applause. They aoon 
gave out that a new actor of eminence waa to 
appear, and immediately all the genteel plan* 
■were beapoke. Before I ascended the Btagc, 
however, I concluded within myself, that a» 1 



A STROLLING PLAYER ?»? 

) brought money to the house I ought lo have A 

■ my share in tlie profits. ■ Gentlemen,' said I, StroUint 

atUressing our company, ' I don't pretend to °'*7^' 
, direct you ; far be it ftom me to treat you with 

Iio much ingratitude : you have jiubliKhed my 
name in the bills with the utmost good-nature, 
and, as atfairs stand, cannot act without me ; bo, 
gentlemen, to show you my gratitude, I expect 
to be paid for my acting as much as any of you, 
* Otherwise I declare off; I'll brandish my snuffers 
and clip candles as usual.' This was a very dis- 
/ agreeable proposal, but they found that it was 
i impossible to refuse it ; it was irresistible, it was 
adamant : they consented, and 1 went on tn 
King Bajazet — my frowning browa bound with 
a stocking stuffed into a turban, while on my 
captiv'd arms I brandished a jack-chain. Nature 
Bcemed to have fitted me (or the part; I was 
tail, and had a loud voice ; my very entrance 
I excited universal applause ; I looked round 
\ on the audience with a smile, and made a most 
' tew and graceful bow, for that is the rule 
I among us. As it was a very passionate part, 
I invigorated my spirits with three full glasses 

ithe tankard is almost out) of brandy. By 
Llla! it is almost inconceivable how 1 went 
fhrough it ; Tamerlane was but a fool to me ; 
though he was sometimes loud enough too, yet 
I was Mill louder than he : but then, besides, 
i had altitudes in abondance ; in general 1 
kept my arms folded up thus, upon the pit of 
lay stomach ; it is the way at Drury Lane, and 
lus always a £ne eflcct. The tankard would 



1 A B'nk Lo thf bottom before I could get tlirough 

^ StrallitiK the whole of my merits : in short, I came off 
f Player iji^e ^ prodigy ; and such was my succcbs, that I 
\ could ravish die laurels even from a sirloin of 

beef. The principal gentlemen and ladies of the 
town carae to me, after the play was ovei, la 
compliment me upon ray success ; one praised 
my voice, another my person. ' Upon my wordj' 
says the Squire's lady, ' he will make ooe of the 
fineit actors in Europe ; I say it, and I think S 
am something of a judge.' — Praise in the be^n^ 
oing is agreeable enough, and we receive it ai ■ 
favour ; but when it comes in great quanUdei) 
we regard it only as a debt, which nothing baf 
our merit could extort : instead of thanking ihenv 
I internally applauded myself. We were desire^ 
to give our piece a second time: we obeyed) 
and I was applauded even more than before. 

" At last we left the town, in order to be I 
a horse-race at some distance from thence. 
shall never think of Tenterden witiiout tears a 
gratitude and respect. The ladies and gentlci 
men there, take my word for it, are very g 
judges of plays and actors. Come, let ua dj 
their healths, if you please, Sir. We quita 
the town, I say ; and there was a wide differe 
between my coming in and going out ; I ente 
the tovm a candle-snuffer, and I quitted il a 
hefo! — Such is the world; little to-day, an 
great to-morrow. I could say a great deal fooi 
upon that subject — something truly sublime, anc 
the upa and downs of fortune; but it would «fi 



A -STROLLING PLATER 



A STROLLING PLATER 






" The racos were ended bel'ore we aiTivcd at i 
Ihc next townj which was no small disappoint- Strollii 
ment to our company : however, we were resolved """"' 
to take all we could get. I played capital char- 
acters there too, and came off with my uaual 
brilhancy. I sincerely believe I should have 
been the first actor of Europe, had my growing 
merit been properly cultivated \ but there came 
an TinkiQilly frort, which nipped me in the bud, 
and levelled me once more down lo the common 
standard of humanity. I played Sir Harry 
Wildair; all the country ladies were charmed; 
if I but diew out my snuff-box, the whole house 
was in a roar of rapture ; when I exercised my 
cudgel, I thought they would have fallen into 
convulsions. 

" There was here a lady who had received an 
education of nine months in London ; and this 
gave her pretensions to taste, which rendered 
her the indisputable mistress of the ceremonies 
wherever she came. She was informed of my 
merits ; everybody praised me, yet she refiiBcd at 
lirsi going to see me perform ; she could not 
conceive, she said, anything but stuff from a 
BtroUei' ; talked something in praise of Garrick, 
and amazed the ladies with her skill in enuncia- 
tions, tones, and cadencies. She was at last, 
however, prevailed upon to go ; and it was 
privately intimated to me what a judge was to be 
present at my next exhibition. However, no 
way intimidated, I came on in Sir Harry, one 
hand stuck in my breeches, and the other in my 
bosom, as usual at Drury Lane ; but instead of 



J JO A STROLLING PLATER 

A looking at me, I perceived tbc whole audlenc 
I StniUing had their eyes turned upon the Jady who 
flayer ^^^^^ ^^^^^ mootha in London ; from her th* 
expected the decision which was to secure 
general's truncheon in my liand, or Gink me d< 
into a theatrical letter-carrier. I opened 
BnuiF-box, took snutF; the lady was solemn, 
90 were the rest : I broke my cudgel on Ald» 
man Smuggler's back ; still gloomy, metanchc 
ail ; the lady groaned and shrugged her sHoulderB > 
I attempted, by laughing myself, to excite at 
least a smile ; but the devil a cheek could I 
perceive wrinkled into sympathy. I found it 
would not do. All my good-bumour txn 
became forced ; my laughter was converted into 
hysteric grinning ; and while I pretended apiirits, 
my eye sliowed the agony of my heart : in thort, 
the lady came with an intention to be displeased, 
and displeased she was ; my fame expired ; I 
am here, and — fie laniard it na more .' ' ' 




TV/r AN is a niost frail being, incapable of direct- 
ing hie stepe, unacquainted with what is 
to happen in thiE life ; and perhaps no lOan is 
a more manifest inalance of tlie truth of this 
maxim, than Mr The. Cibber, just now gone out 
of the world. Such a variety of turns of 
fortune, yet such a persevering unifornuty pf 
conduct, appears in all that happened in his 
short span, that the whole may be looked upon 
as one regular confusion ; every acdoa of his 
life was matter of wonder and surprise, and his 
death was an astonish tncni. 

This gentleman was born of creditable parents, 
who gave him a very good education, and a great 
deal of good learning, eo that he could read and 
write before he was sixteen. However, he early 
discovered an inclination to follow lewd courses : 
he refused to take the advice of his parents, and 
pursued the bent of his incliaaiion ; he played at 
cards on Sundays; called himself a gentleman, 
fell out with his mother and laundress ; and, 
even in these early days, his father was frequently 



bHfifa 



Mr The. J 
Cibber 



J 



aja HR THE. CIBBEH 

Mr The. heard to observe, that young The. — 
Cibbet be hanged. 

As he advanced in years, he grew more fond 
of pleasure ; would eat an ortolan for dinoeTil 
though he begged the guinea that bought i 
was once known to give three pounds for a plal 
of green peas, which he had collected over-nighd 
an charity for a friend in distress ; he 
debt with everybody that would trust him, 3 
none coiUd build a sconce better than he ; 
that at last his creditors swore, with one accordj 
that The. would be hanged. 

But, as getting into debt by 3 man who haJ 
no visible means but impudence for a subiiBtencq 
is a thing that every reader is not acqoaintet 
with, I must explain that point a little, and thsq 

There are three ways of getting in 
first, by pushing a face ; as thus : " ' 
Lutestring, send me home ei\ yards of tba 
paduaaoy, damniec ; but, harkce, don't think f 
ever intend to pay you for it, damm« " ** 
this the mercer laughs heartily ; cuts 
paduaeoy, and sende it home ; nor is he, till T 
late, surprised to find the gentleman 
nothing but truth, and kept his word. 

The second method of running into debt ■ 
called fineering ; which is getting goods n 
up in such a fashion as to be unfit for every o 
purchaser ; and if the tradesman refiiseg to 
them upon credit, then threaten to le; 
upon his hands. 

But the third and best method is called 



MR THE. CIBBER 133 

" Being the good customer." The gentleman Mr Thtf 
first buys some trifle, and pays for it in ready- Cibber 
money ; he comes a few days after with Dothtag 
about him but bank bills, and bays, we will 
suppose, a sixpenny tweezer-case ; the bills are 
too great to be changed, so he promises to re- 
turn punctually the day after and pay for what 
be has bought. In thiis promise he is punctual, 
and this is repeated for eight or ten times, till 
his Face is well known, and he has got at last 
the character of a good customer ; by this means 
he gets credit for something considerable, and 
then never pays for it, 

In all this, the young man who is the unhappy 
subject of our present reflectiona was very expert j 
and could face, Aneer, and bring custom to a 
shop with any man in England : none of his 
companions could exceed him in this ; and his 

very companions at last said, that The, 

would be hanged. 

As he grew old, he grew never the better ; 
he loved ortolans and green peas as before ; he 
drank gravy soup when he could get it, and 
always thought his oysters tasted best when be 
got them for nothing, or, which was just the 
same, when he l>ought them upon tick : thus the 
old man kept up the vices of the youth, and 
what he wanted in power, he made up by in- 
clination ! so that all the world thought old 
The. would be hanged. 

And now, reader, I have brought him to hli 
last Bcent-^a scene where, perhaps, my duty 
■hould have obliged me to assist. You expect, 



334 



MA THE. CTBBER 



Mr TI16. perhapOi his dying worda, and the tender lare- 
Oibbtr^f^ he took of his wife and cluldreB; 3F011 
expect an accouitt of lus coffin, and whtte:glofe% 
his piotts ejaculations^ and the papers he left 
behind him. In this I cannot indulge your 
curiosity ; for, oh ! the mysteries of Fate ! 
The. ■ *wai drown' d J 

*< Reader," as Hervey saith, ** pause and 



ponder, and ponder and pause ; who knowa iwhat 
thy own end may be ! " 



I .< 



o 


N THR SUPERAB 


"Imll-,"^ 


Aj)DEt 

It T,mc 
d 10 no 


..s- 


Tht 


Fdluisiing was WrUtin al t 
Liul CBronatinn, and Suppoi 


of tht 

^from 



CIR,— I have the honour of being 

eouDcilman, and am greatly pleased with a dresses 
paragraph from Southampton in yours of yester- Roy»l^ 
day. There we learn that the mayor and aider- 
men of that royal borough had the particular 
satisfaction of celebrating the royai nupUalg by 
a magnificent nirtle>feaEt. By (his means the 
gentlemen had the pleasure of filling their bellies, 
and showing their loyalty together. I must con- 
fess it would give me soriK pleasure to see some 
such measures of testifying our loyalty practised 
ID this metropolis of which I am an unworthy 
member. Instead of presenting his Majesty 
(God bleas him !) on every occasion with our 
formal addresses, we might thus ait comfortfthly 
down to dioDer and wish him prosperity in a 
Btrloin of be?f ; upon our army levelling the walla 



336 "ADDRESSES" TO HOYAl-TV 

Ad- of a town, or besieging a fortilieation, we might 

"~ "* at our city feaat imitate our brave troops, and 

demolish the walls of venison pasty, or besiege 

the shell of a turtle, with ss great a certainty of 

success. 

At present, however, we have got into a 
of dry, unsocial manner of drawing up addressei 
upon every occasion ; and though I have attended 
upon six cavalcades, and two foot processions in 
a single year, yet I came away as lean and buagry 
aa if I had been a jury-man at the Old Bailey. 
For my part, Mr Printer, I don't see what ig 
got by these processions and addresses, except 
an appetite, and that, thank Heaven, we havt 
al! in a pretty good degree without ever leaving 
our own houses for it. It is true our gowns ff 
mazarine blue, edged with fur, cut a pretty 
figure enough, parading it through the streets^ 
and so my wife tells me. Tn fact, I generally 
bow to all my acquaintance when thus in tf^ 
dress i but, alas ! as the proverb lias it, fin( 
clodies never fill the belly. 

But even though all this bustling, parading 
and powdering through the streets be agreed" ' 
enough to many of us, yet I would have i 
brethren consider whether the frequent repetitiol 
of it be so very agreeatJe to our betters above 
To be introduced to court, to see the Queen, t 
kiss bands, to smile upon lords, to ogle ifc 
ladies, and ail the Other tine things there, mai 
I grant, be a perfect show to us that view it bi 
seldom, bat it may be a troublesome busloe 
enough to those who are to settle such i 



;raUj 



■■ADDRESSES" TO ROYALTY 237 

monies as these every day. To use an inatancc R 
adapted to all our apprehensions i Guppoee my 
family and I should go to Bartholomew Fair. 
Veiy well, going to Bartholomew Fair, the 
whole sight is perfect rapture to tis, who are 
only spectators once and away ; but I am of 
opinion that the wire-walker and Gre-eaCec find 
no such great aport in all this ; I am of opiaioD 
they had as lief remain behind the curtain at 
their own pastimes, drinking beer, eating shrimps, 
and smoking tobacco. 

Besides, what can we cell his Majesty in all 
we say on these occasions, but what he knows 
perfectly well already ! I believe if I were (O 
reckon up, 1 could not find above live hundred 
disaffected in the whole kingdom, and here are 
we every day telling his Majesty how loyal we 
are. Suppose the addresses of a people for in- 
stance should run thus.^May it please your 
M— — -y, we are many of us worth an hundred 
ttK>usand pounds ; and are possessed of several 
other inestimable advantages. For the preserva- 
tion of this money and those advantages we are 

chiefly indebted to your M y. We are 

therefore once more assembled to assure your 

M y ot our fidelity. This it is true we liave 

lately assured your M y five or six times, 

but we arc wiUing once more to repeat what 
can't be doubted and to kiss your royal hand, 
and the Queen's hand, and thus sincerely to con*- 
vince you that we shall never do anything to 
deprive you of one loyal subject, or any one 
of ourselves of one hundred thousand pounds. 



Ksses 



jjs "ADbRfiSsES- TO'^RbWCtY 

Ai' Should we ddf upon reading such an addreat 
'" to think that people a little eilly, who thus made 
such unraeaaing profesaioiifi ? — iixcuse me, Mr 
Printer, no man upon earth has a more profound 
respect for the abilities of the aldermen and the 
coniinOD-couricil than I ; but I could wish cbejr 
would not take up a mooarch's time in theee 
good-natured tritles, who I am told Beldom 
gpeodB a moment in vain. 

The example set by the city of London wU! 
probably be followed by every other community 
in the British Empire. Thus we shall have a 
Dew set of addieises from every little borough 
with but four ireemen and a burgess ; day afbei 
day shall we see them come up with hearta filled 
with gratitude, laying the vows of a loyal people 
at the foot of the throne. Death ! Mr Printer, 
they'll hardly leave our courtiers time to echeinc 
a single project for beating the French ; and our 
enemies may gain upon us while we are that 
employed in telling our governor how much w« 
intend to k«ep them under. 

But a people by too frequent a use of addressee 
may by this means, come, at last, to defeat the 
very purpose for which they are designed. If 
we are thus exclaiming in raptures upon every 
eccasion, we deprive ourselves of the powers rf 
flatte]'/ when there may be a real necessity. A 
boy three weeks ago, swimming across the 
Thames, was every miirate crying out, for tus 
amu«eraent, "I've got the cramp! I've got tte 
cramp!" The boatmen pushed off once- 
twice, and they found it was (iui. He wt 



*< ADDRESSES" TO ROYALTY 239 

after cried out in earnest, but nobody believed Royalty 
him, and so he sunk to the bottom. 

In shorty Sir, I am quite displeased with any 
unnecessary cavalcade whatever. I hope we 
shall soon have occasion to triumph, and then I 
shall be ready myself either to. eat at a turtle- 
feast, or to shout at a bbnfTre ; and will lend 
either my faggot at the fire, or flourish my hat 
at every loyal health that may be proposed. — 
I am. Sir, &c. 



.1 '' 



\ ■ 



t- • : • 



ESSAY VIII. 



To 1 



^ Printer. 



:>ii-couiidl 
le days ago. To whom 
can I complaia but to you ? Tor you have many 
3 dismal correspondent ; in this time of joy my 
wife does not choose to hear me, because ahc 
says I'm always melancholy when she's 
spirits. I have been to see the coronation, and 
a fine sight it was, as I am told. To those who 
had the pleasure of being near spectators, the 
diamoQds, I am told, were as thick as Bristtd 
atones in a show-glass ; the ladies and geotlemeil 
walked all along, one foot before another, and 
threw their eyes about them, on this side an4^ 
that, perfectly like clock work. ! Mr Printer^ 
it had been a fine sight indeed, if there t 
a little more eating. 

Instead of that, there we sat, penned up in out' 
scaffoldings, like sheep upon a market day ■; 
Smithfield ; but the devil a thing could I gee tu 
cat (God pardon me for swearing) except ibi 
fragments of a plum-cake, tliat was all sque«zH 
into crumbs in my wife's pocket, as she cani 
through the crowd. 



TO THE PRINTER Hi 

You musl know, air, that in order to ilo the Coroo^ 
thing genteelly, and that all my family might be *'<"• 
amused at the fiame time, my wife, my daughter, 
md I, took two guinea places for the coroDation, 
and I gave my two eldest boys (who, by-tbe- 
bye, are twins, fine children) eighteen -pence 
a-piece to go to Sudriek Fair, to see the Court 
of the Black King of Morocco, which will serve 
10 please children well eoough. 

That we might have good places on the 
Bcalfoldtng, my wife insisted upon going at «eveii 
o'clock the evening before the coronatioa, for 
she said slie would not lose a full prospect for 
the world. This resolutioa 1 own shocked me. 
" Grizzle," said I to her, " Grizzle, my dear, 
consider chat you are but weakly, always aili;\g, 
and will never beat sitting out aJI night upqn 
the gcaffold. You remember what a cold you 
caught the last fast-day, by rising but, h^f an 
hour before your time to go to church, aod bow 
I was Kolded as the cause, of it. Beside, my 
dear, our daughUT, Anna Amelia Wilhelmina 
Carolina, will look like a perfect fright if she sits 
up, and you know the girl's face is something >t 
her time of life, considering her fortune is but 
small." " Mr Grogan," replied my wife, " Mr 
Grogan, this is always the case, when you find 
me in spirits. 1 don't want to go, not I ; ,nor 
I don't care whether I go at all. It is seldom 
that I am in spirits, but this is always the case,' 
In short, Mr Printer, what will you. have ori't i 
to the coronation we went. 
_.- .WJut,4ifficultiu.wf; lut(l,ia,2(^jxtgciL,(»a^ 



24= ra- THE' PRIHTEir 

Seeing how we were shoved about in ihe mob, how 1 
"'* had my pocket picked of the last new almanack, 
and my steel tobacco-box ; how my daugbiw 
lost half nn eyebrow and her laced shoe in » 
gutter ; my wife's lamentation upon this, with 
the adventures of the crumbled ptum-cake, anS 
broken brandy bottle, what need I relate aU' 
fliese? We suffered this and ten i' 
before we got to our places. 

At last, however, we were sealed. My wife 
is certainly an heart of o»k j 1 thought siting u; 
in the damp night-air would have killed her. 
have kcowD her for two months take pouesri 
of our eaay chair, mobbed up in flannel nigho' 
cape, and trembling at a breath of air ; but JM 
DOW bore the night as merrily as if she had « 
op at a christening. My daughter and «he tt 
not deem to value it of a farthing. She told a 
two or three sioriea that she knows \ 
make me laugh, and my daughter sa __ 
Noontide air towards one o'clock in the mornings 
However, with all their endeavours I was as colli 
and as dismal as I ever remember. " If this b 
the pleasure of a coronation," cried 1, to mysel:^ 
"I had rather see the Court of King SolomnI 
in all his glory at my ease in Bartholora 
Fair." 

Towards morning, sleep began to come t—^— 
Opon me ; and the aun rising and warming lhl| 
air still inclined me to rest a little. You am 
kttoV, sir, chat I am naturally of a slee|(y- con 
stitution; I have often sat up at taUe vakiffi 
^yes open, and have been asleep all dw « 



TO THE PRINTER m 

What will you have on'c f just about eight Cottma- 
'clock in the morning I fell fast asleep. I M tion 
[to the most pleasing dream in the world, I 
ehall never forget it ; I dreamed that I was 
ly Lord Mayor's fesst, and had scaled the 
: of a venison pasty. I kept eating and 
eating, in my sleep, and thought t could never 
' ave enough. After some time, the paety, 
lethought, was taken away, and the dessert was 
brought in its room. Thought I to myself, 
" If I have not got enough of the venison, I am 
resolved to make it up by the largest snap at the 
sweetmeats." Accordingly, 1 grasped a whole 
pyramid ; the rest of the guests seeing me with 
much, one gave me a snap, and the other 
e me a snap ; I was pulled this way by my 
neighbour on my right hand, and tlial by my 
neighbour on my left, hut still kept my ground 
without flinching, and cODtlnucd catiug and 
pocketing as fast aa I could. I never was so 
pulled and hauled in my whole life. At length, 
however, going to smell a lobster that lay 
before me, methoughi it caught me with its 
;laws fast by the nose. The pain I felt upon 
his occasion is inexpressible, in fact it broke my 
dream ; when, awaking, I found my wife and 
daughter applying a smelling- botdc to my DOse j 
and telling me it was time to go home. They 
assured me every means had been tried to awake 
me while the procession was going forward ; 
but that I still continued to Hleep till the 
whole ceremony was over, Mr Printer, this 
hard case, and as 1 read your most 



«44 



TO THE PRINTER 



ingenious work, it will be some comfort, 
th«when I see this inserted, to. find that^-^-^ — 
^^^^^- I write for it too. 

I am, Sir, Your distressed, 

HumUe Servant," *• '. 
L. Grogan. 



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'J. II 



ESSAY IX. 



The Theatre; or, A Comparikon betwken 
Sentimentai and Laughing CoMEnv. 



, "yHE theatre, like all other a 

its fashions and its prejudices : and when 2 
satiated with its excellence, mankind begin to 
mistake change for improvement. For some 
years tragedy was the reigning entertainment; 
but of late it has entirely given way to comedy, 
and our best efforts are now exerted in these 
lighter kinds of composition. The pompous 
train, the swelling phrase, and the unnatural rant, 
are displaced for that natural portrait of human 
folly and frailty, of which all are judges, because 
all have sal for the |iiciure. 

But as in dcaeribing nature it is presented with 
a double face, either of mirth or sadness, our 
modem writers find ihemeelves al a loss which 
chiefly to copy from ■, and it is now debated, 
whether the exhibition of human distress is likdy 
o afford the mind more entertainment than that 
of human absurdity ? 

Comedy is defined by Aristotle to be a picture 



h6 the theatre 

SentU of the frailties of the lower part of mankind, f _ 
mental distinguish it from tragedy, which is an exhilM-> 
tion of the misfortunes of the great. When 
comedy, therefore, ascends to produce the choT' 
actera of princes or generals upon the stage, it i 
out of its walks, since low life and middle lift 
are entirely ita object. The principal quesdoi^ 
therefore, is, whether, in describing low 
middle life, an exhibition of its follies be n 
preferable to a detail of its calamities ? Or, il 
Other words, whicb deserves the preference, — th 
weeping sentimental comedy so much in fashio 
at present, or the laughing, and even low comedy 
which seemE to have been last eshilnted 
Vanhrugh and Cibber I 

If we apyj,y to authorities, all the great n 
in the dramatic an ikave but oae opinioo. The 
rule is, that as tragedy displays the calamities I 
the great, so comedy should escite our kaghtq 
by ridiculously exhibidng the follies of the loyi 
part of mankind, BoUeau, one of the b 
inodern critics, asserts, that comedy will i 
admit of tragic distress : 



N'Bdinet point daon ee 

Nor is this rule without the iKrtmgest foundatiq 
in nature, as the distreaaes of the mean by ,i 
means affect ui so strongly ae the caknuiies I 
the ^at. When tragedy exhibits to lu , 
great ni;m fallen from his heiglit, and auvf 
with want and adversity, we feel his s' 



THE THEATRE 347 

aner as we suppose he liimself must Consdy 
feel, and our pity is increaBcd io pmportioD to 
" ; height from which he fell. On the con- 
trary, we do not so strongly Eympathise with one 
bom in humbler circumstances, and encountering 
accidental distress : so that white we melt for 
BehsariuB, we scarcely give halfpence to the 
beggar who accosia us in the street. The one 
has our pity ( the otber our contempt. Distress, 
therefore, is the projter object of tragedy, since 
the great excite our pity by their fall ; but not 
equally so of comedy, since the actors employed 
io it are originally so meao, thai: they sink but 
little by their fall. 

^ioce the first origin of the stage, tragedy 
and comedy have run in distinct channels, and 
never till of late encroadied upon the provinces 
of each other. Terence, who seems to have 
made the nearest approaches, always judiciouejy 
etops short before he conies to the downright 
pathetic ; and yet he is even reproached by 
Ca-sar for wanting the fit eomua. AH the 
other comic writers of antiquity aim only 
at rendering (oily or vice ridiculous, but never 
exalt tlieir characters into bualtined pomp, or 
inaice what Voltaire humorously calls a iradtt' 
man's tragedy. 

Vet notwithstanding this weight of authority, 
and the umversal practice of former ages, a 
new ^cieg of dramatic compoution has been 
introdacedi under the name of jinliminla/ 
1 the virtues ot private life are 
r than the vices exposed ; and 




THE THEATRE 



THE I""- ^ __ 

ttoi My- '",„ „<»e<l» *""' 'f bring' O" 
plhflic. „ „1 tnKn ^„j 

i°« »", fSae«»« """ ''^h. to'" -- 









THE THEATRE 349 

only abridging oui happiness to deny ua an Coisttl7 
inlet to amusenient. ■^~ "" 

The objeetiona, however, are rather speciotis "'"' 
than Bolid. It in true, tliat amusement is a 
great object of the theatre, and it will be 
allowed that these senUmencal pieces do often 
amuGC us ; but the question is, whether the true 
comedy would not amuee ai more i The 
question is, whether a character supportad 
tiiroughout a piece, with itc ridicule still attaiding* 
would oot give us more delight tlian this species of 
bastard tragedy, which only is applaiided because 
it it) new f 

A (riend of mine, who was sitting unmoved 
at one of tlieee sentimental pieces, was asked 
how he could be so i&difiercnt ? ':' Why, 
Uu!y," says he, "as the hero is but a 
tradesman, it is indifferent to me whether be 
be turned out of his counting-house on Fish 
Street Hill, since he will still have enough left 
to open shop in St Giles's." 

The other objection is as ili-grounded ; for 
though we should give these pieces another 
name, it will not mend their efficacy. It 
will continue a kind of muiiih production, with 
all the defects of its opposite parents, and 
marked with sterility. If we are permitted to 
make comedy weep, we have an equal right 
to make tragedy laugh, and to set down in 
blank verse the jests and repartees of all the 
attendants in a funeral procession. 

But there is one argument in favour of senti- 
mental comedy, which will keep it on the 



ijo THE THEATRE 

Senti- «3ge, in spice of alt that can be aaid agaiutf 
mentol it. It is, of all others, the moat easily wTttteiu 
Comedy -^j^^^ abilitiea that can hammer out a novel, 
are fully suiEcient for the producUo 
mental comedy. It is only sul£ci< 
the characters a little; to deck out the here 
with 3 riband, or give the heroine a title j then 
to put an ineipid dialogue, without character a 
humour, into their mouths, give them mighty 
good hearts, very fine clothes, fumiGh a new Kt 
of scenes, malce a pathetic sceoe or two, with* 
sprinkling of tender melancholy coaversatioB 
through the whole, and there is no doubt but al 
the ladies wil! cry, and all the gentJeTi 
applaud. 

Humour at present seems to 
from the stage, and it will soon happen that O 
comic players will have nothing left, for it b 
a fine coat and a song. It depends upon tl 
audience whether they will actually driTe c' 
poor merry creatures from the stage, o? & 
a play as gloomy as at the Taberoacle. It i 
not easy to recover an art when once lost ; an 
it will be but a just puniBhmeot, that when, b 
our b^ng too fastidious, wc have bwiihe 
humour from the stage, we should aur«dves b 
deprived of the art of laughing. 



A Rrgister OS Scotch MARRiActs. 
Jo Ihi EAilor of"Thr IVejt>m«slrr Magar^me" 



CIRf — Ab I see you are fond of gallantry, and Scotch 
•^ seem willing to set young people together •?*''■ 
as BOOH Bs you can, I cannot help lending my "^E^s 
asnBtaoce to your endeavourx, as I am greatly 
concerned in the attem])t. You mmt know, 
Sir, that I am hindUdy of one of the moKt 
noted inns on the road to Scotland, and hm'e 
seldom less than eight or ten couples a week, 
who go down rapturous la vers, and return man 
and wife. 

If there be b thia world an agreeable utua- 
tion, it must be that in which a young couple 
find themeelves when just let loose from con- 
finement, and whirling off to the land of pro- 
mise. When the post-chaise is driving off, and 
the blinds are drawn np, snre nothing can equal 
it ! And yet, I do not know how, what with 
the fears of being pursued, or the wishes for 
greater happiness, not one of my customers but 
teems gloomy and out of temper. The genili 
rnqn-arc all sullen, and the ladies 



1S3 SCOTCH MARRIAGES 

Scotch But if it be so going down, how is 

them coming back ? Having been for a fort- 
night together, they are then mighty good com> 
pacy to be sure. It jb then the young lady'd 
indiscretion stares her in the face ; and da 
geatlemaii himself findb that much is to be dom 
before the money cornea in. 

For my own part. Sir, I was married i 
usual way ; all my friends were at the weddinf! 
1 was conducted with great ceremony from i* 
table to the bed : and I do not dad that it a ^ 
ways diminished my happinets with ray husbani^ 
while, poor man ! he continued with me. " 
my part, I am entirely for doing things i 
old family way ; I hate youi' new-fashionoi 
manners, and never loved an outlandish marriag 

Aa I have had nmnbers call at my home, yo 
may be sure I was not idle in inquiring who t' 
were, and how they did in the world after tl 
left me, 1 cannot say that I ever heard ml 
good come of them ; and of a history of twen 
five that I noted down in my ledger, I do n 
know 3 single couple that would Dot have I 
fiill as happy if they had gone the plain Way t 
work, and asked the consent of their j 
To convince you of it, I will mentio 
of a few, and refer ihe real to some filter o 
tunily. 

Imprimis, Miss Jenny Hastings went down < 
Scotland witli a tailor, who, to be sure, for 
tailor, wai a very agreeable sort of a man. 
1 do not know how, he did not take i 



SCOTCH- MARRIAGES isi 

measure of the young lady's diBpoaition : they Har- 
i]uarrel]ed at my house on their reium ; so she f*KE* 
left him for a cornet of dragoons, aod he went 
back to his shopboard. 

MiHS Rachel Runfort went off with a grena- 

;r. They spent all their money going down ; 
that be carried iier down in a post-chaiae, 
and, coining back, she helped to carry his knap- 
sack. 

Mias Racket went do^vn with her lover in 
their own phaeton ; but upon tbcnr return, being 
very tbnd of driving, she would be every now 
and then for holding the whip. This bred a 
dispute ; and before they were a fortnight to- 

hor, she feit that he could exerciae the wUp 

somebody else besides the horaea. 

Miss Meekly, though all compliance to the 
will of her lover, could never leconcile him to 
the change of hie situation. It seems, he married 
Iher supposing she had a large tbrtune i but being 
deceived in their expectaiionii, they parted ; and 
tliey now keep separate garrets in Rosemary 
l.ane. 

The next couple of whom I have any account, 

tually lived together in great harmony and un- 
cloying kiodnesa for no less than a month ; but 
ihe lady, who was a little in years, having parted 
with her fortune to her dearest life, he left hor 
3 make love to that better part of her which he 
■alued more. 

The next pair consisted of an Irish fortune- 
hunter, and one ot the prettiest modesteat ladies 
Xltat ever my eyes beheld. As he was a well- 



ast SCOTCH HTARRIAGES 

b looking gentleman, all drest in lace, and as si 
seemed very fond ol" him, I thought they y 
blest for lite. Yet I was quickly miBtakenkI 
The lady was no better than a com 
of the town, and he was no better than a sharper ^ 
Ko they agreed upon a mutual divorce. He nom 
dresaes at the York Ball, and she is in kee^on 
by the member for our borough in Parliament. '' 

In tliifi manner we nee that all thos 
in which there is interest on one side, and dlsq 
obedience on the other, are not likely^ K 
a long harvest of delights. If our fortuoe-hunM 
ing gentlemen would bat speak out, the yomi| 
4ady, instead of a lover, would ottea find I 
lioeaking rogue, that only wanted the lad^ 
purse, and not her heart. For my own ] 
I never saw any thing but design and false' 
in every «ne of them ; and my blood has boJla 
in my veins, when I saw a young fellow i 
twenty kneeling at the feet of a twenty thoasanil 
pouiuler, pn^essing his passion, while he was 
taking aim at her money. I do not deny but 
there may be love in a Scotch marriage, but it is 
generally all on one side. 

Of all the sincere admirers 1 ever knew, a 
man of ray acquaintance, who, however, did not 
run away with his mistress to Scotland, was the 
most «o. An old exciseman of our town, who, 
as you may guese, was not very rich, had a 
daughter who, as yon shall see, was not very 
handsome. It wan the opinion of every body 
that this young woman would not soon be mar- 
ried, as she wanted two main articles, beauty 




SCOTCH MARRIAGES 355 

and fortune. But for all this, a very well- Mar- 
looking man, that happened to be travelling those nages 
parts, came and asked the exciseman for his 
daughter in marriage. The exciseman, willing 
to deal openly by him, asked if he had seen the 
girl ; " for," says he, " she is hump-backed." — 
" Very well," cried the stranger, " that will do 
for me." — "Aye," says the exciseman, "but 
my daughter is as brown as a berry." — "So 
much the better," cried the stranger, " such skin 
wears well." — " But she is bandy-legg'd," says 
the exciseman. — " No matter," cries the other, 
"her petticoats will hide that defect." — "But 
then she is very poor, and wants an eye." — 
" Your xksciripliionv delights me,"^ . cries , the 
strangisr ; /^ I have bees looking QUt -.for Qne of 
her make ; for Lk€e|i9a.i^xlubittOQ.Qf wild beasts, 
and intend to show her off for a Chimpanzee.' 



I / 



■ ■?: ' y- •• ■ :\ »;- 



f 






• .1 -r ..: . • / / 



; 



, 1 



.■■.'■ J. . 



■' This edition bf Goldsmiths « EtsaifS '' has been 
" prepared for the pf^s\ hy^'lA.'t:: PiiXtSr^ 
^< 'rtfha'kiu rMndihe text; added ihi mdrginalh^^^' 
■ otit^Mii^S^ikdiAxompanyin^nJles. ' : -/. ' .n i.-^j^ 
.• xii!- i-crrD j; i<.i -«» -.ri '»• . •.»; K/i ' i- |-jj:f.: 
February^ ^S^S* 



NOTES. 

The numbers at the beginning of paragraphs refer to the 
pages. 

Frontispiece. — The frontispiece is a portrait of 
Goldsmith etched by Harry G. Webb, after Reynolds. 

Notes, — Some of the notes are based upon those of 
previous editors, but the majority of them are new. 

Text. — The Bee originally appeared in threepenny 
weekly numbers from 6th October to 14th Noyember, 
1 759. It was issued in December as a duodecimo volume 
under the title, The Bee, Being Essays on the Most 
Interesting Snbfects, The publisher was J. Wilkie, at 
the Bible in St Paul's Churchyard. The following is 
a list of the << Contents," those papers which have 
been omitted on the present occasion being wholly 
in Italic type: — 

[No. I.] Introduction. 

Epigram on a beautiful Youth struck blina with Light- 
ning. Imitated from the Spanish, [See Poems ^ 
(Temple Classics)^ p. 75.] 

Another, In the same Spirit, (Latin, not printed. ) 

Remarks on our Theatres. 

The Story of Alcander and Septimius. Trans- 
lated from a Byzantine Historian. 

A Letter from Mr Voltaire to M, D'A&oet, of 
Lasuatme, (Not printed,) 

A Letter from a Traveller. 

A short Account of the late Mr MAunRTuis. 

[No. 1.] On Dress. 
Some Particulars relating to Charles XII. not 
commonly known. 

R »57 



258 NOTES 

The Gift. To IriS} in Botv Street^ Covent Garden, 
\See Poems (Temple Classics)^ p. 76.] 

Happiness in a great Measure dependant upon 
Constitution. 

On our Theatres. 

A Letter from Mr VoLTAiRE to M, TiaiOT. {Not 

printed. ) 

[No. 3.] On the Use of Language. 
The History of Hypasia. 
On Justice and Generosity. 
On Wit. By Mr Voltaire. (Not printed.) 
A Sonnet. \See Poems (Temple Classics)^ p. 80. 3 
Some Particulars relating to Father Fri^jio. 

[No. 4] Miscellaneous. 
A Flemish Tradition. 
The Sagacity of some Insects. 
The Characteristics of Greatness. 
A City Night-Piece. [See Citizem of the World 

(Temple Classics), ii. p. 277.] 
An Elegy on that Glory of her Sex^ Afre Mart 

Blaize. [See Poems (Temple Classics), p 8%.] 

[No. 5.] On Political Frugality. 
A Resverie. 
A Word or two on the late Farce, called High 

Life Beloiv Stairs. 
On Unfortunate Merit. 

[No. 6.] On Education. 

On the Contradictions of the World. From Foltaire 

(Not printed.) 
On the Instability of "Worldly Grandeur. 
Some Account of the Academies of Italy. 
[No. 7.] Of Eloquence. 
Custom and Laws compared. 
Of the Pride and Luxury of the Middling Cls 

of People. 
Sabinus and Olinda. 
The Sentiments of a Frenchman on the Temper rf 

English. {Not printed.) Copied, tsnth little ait t 

tion, from the Abbe Le Blanc*s Letters on 



,d. .714. 

A« Acaiant tflii A„gu 
frlmleJ — GBldsmili's 

Of the Opera In EnglaniL 

he aboie lompriK all the papers included in the 
original "Conient«"of TSf St of 1759. In the caM 
of thote pspcri reprinted in the Siia^i o! 176S, the 
text here given (with the eiception of that of the 
foUawing iDtrodnctlon) is the later one. (See nates 
to leparate EasHyi. ) 

], Inlraiiiaaii. — This was afterwards jneluded in the 
Kijoyj, but while the other papers are printed from 
the later Tersions, it has been judged expedient to 
give thit one as it appeared in No. 1 of Tk, Brr. 

4. fuif^ foni.—" tow," as opposed to" genteel," 
was a popular form of eighteenth -century critUIitn, 
especiallf with the would-be votaries of " hlgih Ufe." 
Goldsmith had already touched upon the aubjec' ' 

the i-™™/ SB*. ., • ■ 

"By the power 



^ ir; then he l» iw: does he exaggerate the 
features of folly, Co render it more thoroughly 
ridiculous, he is then very ;iitu. In short, they have 
protcribed the comic or satyrical muse from eiety 
walk but high life, which, though abounding in 
fools a) well as Ihe humbleat itationj is by no means 
so fruiiful in absurdity." ''There's nothing comes 
out but the roost lowest stuff iu nature, "says Lady 
Blarney later in the rkar {T-mpU Clai,ia\ p. Sij 
and In 1768, the Lamltn C<tr«~fci> declared Goldsmith's 
own Bailiir Scene in the Gi«l Natur'd Max to be 
"uncommonly low." He was in good company, 
according to George Borrow. ■' Homer himself has 



i^a& 



26o WOTES 

never yet entirely recovered from the injurjr 
receited by Lord Cheiterfield'i remark, ihat ibt 
■peechei of hii heroes were frequently excecdingl' 
lov" {Lavingra, ch. xli). 

^. aihi at ai inJa, — i.r. an expert. I'The Gteit 
Men themielveg, who >re (to fetcli B Phrase froi 
School, a Place not improperly mentioned on l' 
Occuion) great Dabs at this kind of Faceliousne 
(Fieldtng*! Enay «• CnHvinalisH, Miialliaia,\-j^i 
P- '7J)' 

4. CdiMil Ckartirii An infamous profligate, <a 

ised alike by Pope's pen and Hogartb'« bruih, 
died In 1731; and Arbuthnot made him the tub] 
of a leathing epitaph. 

5. Uii Ihr ft(,_The motto of Th, Ba was fi 
LDcretiuB:— 

" Floriferis nt Apes saltibua omnia libant, 
Omnia Noi Iiidem," 

6. a ten-mel This aentence suggests the " DiReren 

longitude, diffeient latitude " of the dramatist T. Vfi 
Robertion. Sec alio Shakespeare on " a. jeuD 
prosperity" (l.in/1'1 Latmr'j Lai, Act v., Sc, jl, 
1. 87.). 

6./r.«f txirairilimiry pagii ef UlUrfrat Co 

repeats (his jibe at the artiest sednetiong of hit coo 
[emporariea in a later paper (see p. 71). •' All thl^ 
together with four extraordinary pages of laurfrat 
a beautiful map of England, and two prints curionst] 
coloured from natnre, I fancied might touch theii 
YCry louls' {B,t, No. IV., Saturday, October vjth 
'7S9> 

7. radituff, — These Were the words which, accord 
Co Mrs Carter, the •• line folks " applied to FieLdini 
Amtlia {Lillm, 3rd ed, 1819, I. p. ]6g). 

7. Baj«, M<i."A4»a"a/."— Goldsmitlihadprobabl] 
in mind thii pasiage from Act iii,, Sc. i. of Bucking 
ham's play : " My Play ii my Touch-stone, 
a man lells me such a one it a person of parts ; 
to, say 17 What do 1 do, but bring him prewntlj 
to see thii Play : If he likes it, I know what t. '• ' 



of him ; if not, your motit humble Servanl, Sir. I'l 
no more of him upon my word, T thank you " (Arber's 
reprint, iSfig, p. 75). 

9. Our tAulrii an wrw ofcittJ. —The HaymarkeC 
opened on die 17th Septem tier with a Burletta entitled 
GalligantuM ; Drury Line on <he iinJ with Farquhar'i 
SaruUmg Offcn-; and Co*eal Garden on the jfth 
with tht MIht (tte note top. «i). 

9. Gtub 5(«rf.— The Gtub Street of fact is now 
Milton Street, Cripplegate. Johnion, who defined it 
in tlie Dkliimtn at "aatieet . . , moch inhabited by 
writers of imall hintoriet, dictionaries and temporary 
poemi," according to Miu Burney, had never been 
there himteii (^Diary, i. p. 415). 

9. ai a manager, m ovdncnw.— Thii was a common 
charge against Oarrick (if. Birkbeck Kill'ii Bamcll, 
.KS7, iii. p. 71). 

9, Palmtr.—io\ia Palmer, the Elder, died in May 
1768. He wai an excellent Flume in Parquhar's 
RicrvUiig Offcrr, but a coxcomb on and off tlie Stage. 

"PalhkkI Oh I Palmu topi the janty part," layt 
Churchill i^Pam; 4th ed. 1769, i. j), 

9. /U/d.'/.— Charles Holland died of tmallpox in 
December 1769, aged 36. Churchill accuses him In 
the SsichJ o! being merely a servile copy of Gartick, 
>omc of whose favourite characters he played success- 
fully, "I hate e'en Gauice thus at second hand" 
(/*««.. 4th ed. 1769,1. p. 17). 

9. SiMlir Edward, or more familiarly, Ned Shuler 

(1718-76), who afterwards played "Croaker" in the 
GmJ Nalar'd Man, and " Mr Hardcaitle " in She Simh 
h Csnjuir. Garrick called hioi •' the greatest comic 
pniu* he had ever seen," and Dibdin says he was 
"one of ihe beat burletta linger) in the world." 

10. rj«^<l it ■u^imlJic »».^iaj/c.— This— technically 
known as " gagging "—was Shuter'i worst fault ; — 

" .SuuTti, who never cai'd a single pin 
Whetiier he left out nonsense, or put in." 
(Churchill's P™,, 4th ed. 1769, f. p. jl.) 

1 1. -fit JM;«r.— This was 1 version by Henry Field- 



26i 



NOTES 



ing of Moliere'i VAvan. fir![ produced ii 
eniirely va^exttiti the earlier esiaf of tihadwell 
(1671J; and is recognised by Trench critidim 
prscticaliy faithful to the original. On the i, 
September, ghortly before the date of chia paper, 
had been played at CoTcnl Garden with Shnler 
"Lovegold," the English Hirpagon. 

II. tB fid 11/ fl^i'n.— The pin-picking i» not refeired 
CO by Moliere'K edilon, but '• U ji<, dc la hi 
erudition of the French Stage. 

II. Th: •• M:xi DKr«r."— This again, waiPleldingV 
adaptation (i73i)fn>inMoUere of the JMMM<iHa/^/JtriV 
tt was played at Drury Lane on ijth Sepiembcr (whcK 
Goldsmith probably «aw ii); and 5ih October (»K* 
day ptEceding the date of this nnmber of Tht Ba) widt 
Yates and Mrs Abington ae the principal ' 
Gregory and Dorcas. 

11. .^iVcD^i. — Riccobonl't book wu [ran^ted<,'ii| 
1741 under the title of Ah Hiiltruai a"il Cn 
q/ lie Titmriio/Sunfc. etc. . . . By the famoiu LewSI 
Rieeoboni of the Italian Theatre at Paris, IH Wrf 
chapter on the English Theatre (pp. l6o-lti) b* 
asys!— "The Architectarc of their Play-h«l»e i' 
beantiful and Eommodions. All the Pit ta In Fan 
of an Amphitheatre, where both Sexes lit pro 
mftcunusly, which alTord Tiic] a very agreeable Sight; 
There is but one Row of Boxes, anil above are tw^ 
Gallcrie* with Benches one abore another, whttn 
People tit." An an example " to what an Exmtnet^ 
the Engliii Comedians carry the Imitation of Natifre,^ 
he gives an account of an English actor ' " " 
■ii whom be had seen at Lincoln's Inn rieiat, 1 
who not only acted but looked the part of an old a 



II. iur lilllr fagci.—'M. Pierre Grosley, who rlalta 
London In 1765, was much exerciaed by the lltlll 
Craitibearets {aunlatiilrci), who ran about the (lag 
with the trains of the heroines. Addison, Gfty-f^ 
yeart before, had commented in the Sfiiiniv (tStI 
April 1711) upon the same a noma It. 

13. rErlj-MrlrJ gwarJi,—Th'\ 



NOTES 



j63 



to the pair of leatiaelB whom it was the practice 
itioii upon the stage dating the performance of ■ 
In ohap. lix. of Tic firguiiau, Tfaackeraf 
• one of Ihcm moved to tew. by Mrs Woffing- 
acting of I^dy Randolpli in Home') tragedy of 

1 3. lie IVapping LundlaJg. — Thii ii a character in a. 
farce called Th4 Humanr- ^ Wafpi-g, 1703, which, 
ling to the Daliti Advrrtisrr, was atill beinj; acted 
, (4. A icene with a limilar title, md prubablj 
from the laine play, was painted by Frank Hayman 
for Vanxhall Gardeai, and engraied by L. Trudly. 
3, eiitii^ in the cliaraelir of Jaat Skari It is 






3 Mrs 



1), mlthonjfh 



anted thit part aa Ureas 175B (No* 

hit iait pMnt. if. Churchill's Renmd (Peimi, 4th ed. 
769, i. p. 39): — 
" in Comedy—' Nay, there/ eriei Critic, ' hold. 
FuTaiAKu'ii for Comedy too fat and old. 
Who can, with patience, bear the gray coquette, 
Or force a laugh with oTer-grown JuletC ? ' " 
14. Altanderand Srfiimiur — Theiritoryiitobefonnd 
n the D-<:m*ii» of Boccaccio, Tale S, Day 10. I'he 
leroes in there called Titua and Gisippui. The text 
lere giien It that of ibe Euag, of 1 76S (No, IL). 

19. A Lniirfnm a TrinidliT.—TMs ll thought to 
t>e nclitioui, in apite of the head-note. 

a pkilesefiie ■aaralmd.—T'tia i> the name which, 
in the''CortBiita"of the Kuar nf Waiificld, I^Msnaih 
ffifec to George Primrose (ch. xx.). Johnson wished 
to uhrUten The TrmtlLr the " Philoiophlc Wanderer" 
(Forster'i Li/r of CeUimiik, ilyi, i. 3«i), the Dame 
which Lien Chi Altangi glvei 10 himiclf {CHittn •/the 
mnd {Ttmfle Clniiia), L 18]. 

IX. Mayptiinit Pierre- Lou i a- Morean de Mau- 

pertuli, 1698-1759 (July »;,. 

14. Miireaigat (the " little great "), appeared in 
r5i. It la in the;<flr< of Gulliver. 
iC On Dmi.^Tbtt i( reprinted in the Eiiayi, Ho. 






NOTES 



XV. : and U here reproduced item the i 
1766. 

17. Swiifiixg IraiMi Goldnoiith dcTOtei 

Utter in Che Oli^a 0/ lie IPtrld to thi 
«««■«, li. pp, ti5-9). 

17. Imllofxci The troUopee, according to F^ibolt 

{Cwlame in Englaml, by Dillon, iSBj, ii. p. 400), 
wu " a loose flowing gown, aometimes gathered uf 
behind and open in frani, much worn a> a mornlni 
dreu by ladies about 1750." C/, the Cvuh 
19 Augu.t i7Jfi [by WiUiam Cowper] 1- 
were most woefully eclipsed by a burgeai'a daughtei; 
ju>t come from London, who appeared in a TnU^ 
or Slammerfcin, with treble rufflei to the cuffi, pinka 
and gymped, and the sides of the petticoat drawn w 

iS. iiT tnhiir nrgligei.^-Tiiit also Was a loDK gowH 
^ the £-.rJ^ Diarg of Frances Bu tney , 1 g f ^ . , 
"... her Ladyship has Bought the silk for \ 
Ntglis!' for me, and a ilip for Sakey " ix^6^^). 

19. ynr mmlnti muf—See Hogarth'* Sifnu 
Child, IJSS ; ^i'''-'' J'r-grtii, 1735, Ft. iv. ; and TiZi 
High Life, 1741, for eKamples of men wearing mulli 
[n Norember 1766, my Lord nf March and Rogls 
(the March of the Virgiiiaiu) writei to Gem| 
Selwyn at Paris:— "The mufT you sent me by th 
Duke of Richmond I like prodigiously; VBitly bett^ 
than if it had been ligrt, or of any glaring colour 
seteral are now nuking from It" (Jesst' 
1843,11.71). 

JO. liri/mngi/Hltraiig inig. — Doctors wore Cye-w 
"A phyiician," writes Fielding in 1731, "can 
more preicrlbe without a fnll wig, than withoi 
fee" (TSt Afci florfsr, Sc. v.). 

30. jcrajf.^Mean -looking, or second-rate peopL 
"There Was none at the confetsion but a aet o( pot 
until of u>, who could sin only in our wUla 
(CanEa., No. 65). 

31. lattitring InllBfei.— For Irello/ice, (Be o»«, p. !_ 
Lutestring, a corruption of /v/Mn;, was a "luslroiui 
bright silk much uwd in (he last [eighteenth^ 01 



NOTES 365 

Dry for ladlei' dCEsBe), iaCroduceil into this country 
by the French refugeei who fled here after the rero- 
nation of the Edict of Nantei " (Driper'a DulHimy). 
"Within my Memory the price of Lutalriiig it 
nisei sbove two Pence in a Y»rd" (SfcelaWr, No. 

"ji. *.«/,„.-Rag.pi<:ke». Cf. L«v Lifi [.7S1), 
p. 5 :--"».-«--> with bit< of CanJUi between their 
Fingeri, and Baskets on their Headi, rummaging the 
dirty Dunghills , , , for Rag. and Bonea. . . ." 
Again, p. 16, "Great Trafficking among the Buaim 
in Rattm Smi , . . for the Rags and Bonee picked 

p that Morniog." 
31. U^iilt CHdnU Hi,«,i{ot Tea Gardeni) wai a papu- 

ir lubDrban reiort of the eighteenth -century middle 
datgei. It itood until iJ49on theeaal side of Penton 
Street, Peotonville. It wai a faTourile haunt with 
Goldsmith, who mentioni it in the Ciinn if lii 
WtrU (Jntfl, Cluua, ii. p. 300). From the old 
■dTertiiementB, tea, ingar and milk was jd. per 
bead, so that " sixpennywonh " repreienls the en- 
tire outlay of Mrs Ron a da bout's "marriageable 
daughters." 

31. my Lord Bantam; Indian ,k„f.—Cf. the ■' bell- 
wether of Bantam" in Ciiixm 0/ ihi IVprU {Trmfib 
Claiiici, ii. p. ii6). The Syrian and Egyptian sheep 
haite often enormons fleshy tails which lometimei 
require to be sapporled. 

39. Happinoi, etc This is reprinted in the Euayt, 

Ho. 111., and ii here reproduced from the edition of 
1765. 

, creii-fyrptia An eighteenth -century game 

ioned, but not deSned in Sbcdalir, No. 145. 

quflkm a»d <xmma»d, This game, of which 

ii a deiEriptioD in Sydney's Sxiat Life in Eng- 
land, 1I91, p. 391, Is also mentioned la the ficor tf 
IVatt/tU {Timpli Claiiii,), p. 5S. See also S/Mlaltr, 
No. »45 ; &nd TjnHr, No. 1 3 !— " 1 might hare been a 
King at Qfinliimi dW Commandi." 

40. Oar eld Jairymald. — Peggy Golden, cf. f'iiar rf 
Ifaitfiild (Tanfk Claiiia), ?. 21 ; and Goldsmith's 







Letter to hin brother-in-law, Uaiiiel Hodson, 
Dec. 1757. 

40. 5«i.™ Mlin.—rhi; and the biilUd of 
Border freebooter, Ji 
WIIlTam Allingham's 

41. thifamsu, Cardinal dt Jtclx Jean-FrantoU-Paol 

de Gcnidl, Cardinal de Retz, 1G14-79, a prominent 
initigator of the Fronde. Hii Aft™/™, »js M. St.: 
Jal {Didmntain Crilifuc, 1S71, mil ed. p. I05Q, 
form " nil drr livra In fllui curiiux, la pliu fiquaali, Itt 
mrHimri jvi 11 leitnt findnilj iiir crtli epsjut d'harifva 
degtirrc tlriau efftlU, di malhnrj fuMiei At a eamthia 
de yudgucr prandjf dt kainei vigBureui ' > - ' 

faafkliU.'" It wa» very popular 
century. Ladf Hervej' (Lttim, 
had " read it six or seen timeb uvci : #du i^fn 
Cheilerlield embodies a large number of llie Ordl 
nal'B pnlidcat Maxima In Letter izj to hi! ton. ' 
ii included in tiie Graadi Eirii-aai dc Ftaaa Krjea. 

44. Madrmoiiillr CinVwi.— Clalre-Josap he-Hi ppolfti 
de Latude, otberaite Mile. Clairon (1713-1803} 
Garrlcit, who saw her in 1751 " in the dawn of hc^^ 
reputation," and aftemardi in 1765, when ihe retlrt 
from the «tage, professed the greatest admiration fo 
her talenti, while Gibbon (Auteiiigrapkin , il^S, pp 
104, 161) epeaki of her " conauniniate art." 

45. iki ih^ng WMM at SadUri »';/&.— Sadlers" Well 
was a popular place of enlertainmenl near the N*iH 
River. In chief "singing women" at this du 
(17J9J, according to the PuilU Ailvriihtr,'Kttt Ml 
Dennis and Mrs Edwards. 

4ti. nepir li lnh noliu ^f llu »iA'm».— ^, Uofd^ 

^rt.r((F.r*M774,i. p, .8):- ' 

" Divest yourself of hearers, If jou can, 

And strive to (peak, and be [he very man. 

Why should the well-bred actor wish to know 

— ■ ■ who below?" 

the chief female character tj 



and married Colley Gibber's reprobate ton, Tlieo- 
philui (lee p. 131}. As an actreis, she had more 
senilbility than beauty: — 

" In Cibber'i look commanding lorrowa speak, 
And call the tear fast trick'Ung down my cheek." 
CLlord'.J.«..»V^, ,774,1, p, i3.) 

46, i" Mlimg'i iM«ii.— This, at Dniry Lane and 
Covent Garden, was the price of the lecond or 
"upper gallery," the chosen ceiort of all "gentle- 
men's genllomen." The first Gallery was two 
shillings; the Pit two, or three shiilingi. 

47. 7 rrmatbir la have iiroKiii.— Tlii> anecdote is told 
ofThomas Sheridan, fetherofR. fl. Sheridan. Gold- 
■mllh had already referred lo it in a letter to Mrs 
LawderfJaneConUrioei, i;th Augmt 1758. 

48. On th Uic of £o»™oK.— Thii is reprinted In 
the Eiiayi, No. V., and i( here reproduced from 
the edition of 17S6. 

4S. Mr Irai lut tf sfcick. — This idea has been em- 
ployed both before arid after Golditn!lh,~af^er him, 
notably, by Voltaire. If it be neceuaty that lie 
ihould have borrowed from a predecessor, he ma^ 
"-ive had In mind Young's Lnc of F^mc, tii Umvn-itl 
anion, fith ed, 1763, Sal. ii, p, 39 r — 
" Where nature's end of language is declin'd, 

And men tali onlg to conceal ihc taind.'' 
He wu certainly familiar with Young, whole poem 
rit appeared in 171 j-8. 

4a. Sinict khajilf allrua. — Ste Seneca Dr B,nr- 
BdU, Lib. i)., cap. XV., iri. and KTii." 

49, Ovidjiiiili/ amfiMra. — Goldsmith had perhaps in 
»lew Trirtia, Lib. Ii. g^.fi.' 

JJ. Jutl nidiid lie lime. — i.t. JDit hit upon the time. 
The just leauin of doing things must be uick'd and 
all accidents improved " (L'Eilrange In Johnson j. 

53. fttikn. — i.t. Artifices,' ttraiagemt, subterfuge*. 
Cf. Hmdiirai, Pt ii. Canto 3, 11. 1107.10:— 

'Theediiariii indebted for Ihueindiistionstolht kindness 
efMr Sidney T. Irwin. M.A., ofClirtaB CoHete. 



•• But SiJrafiiJ, ufulloi"! 
As ffo(fl-»iM of Politicks, 
Sireight can about lo oi 
TK' unw.ry ConquVor , 






54. KtM Slria, now Tabard Slreel, extended 
contemporary mapi between the preient New Ki 
Road and BlackmaD Street. According lo Slrjrpe, 
it wai " chiefljr inhabited by Broom Men and Mumpei 
[Bcggan]." Goldsmith, wha mentions it in A* £/» 
on Mr. Mary Blaitt \Ptrmi (Temple Clasaici), p. t% 
wa< prnbably familiar with thii poor part of Sontt 
wark, as he had practiaed ai "a physician, 
humble way," in the fianlcside. 

54. the S»y™e._The Smyrna coffee-houie w 
Pall Mall, opposite MarlborouKh Home, it the c 
of Crown Court. " Prior and 1 came away al 
and lat at Ihr Smyrna till eleven, receiving acquaioi 
anee" [Jsurnal In Sulla (October 15, 1710), Aitken 
edn. 1901, p. 4a]. At the Smyrna Thomtoo i 
Tited tubicriptions for Tki Sramu. 

54. Dr Cka/m.—Tbit was Richardioo'i friend, I 
George Cheyne, or Cheney, author of Tlu Ei,£li. 
MalaJ^ {i.e. Hypochondria), 1733. He w 
eighteenth -century adiocate ftar rxcillmee of leinpe 
ance and a Tegelable diet. He died at Bath in Api 
174], being then in hii seventy -second year. 

54. Samjnn GiJan was a noted Jew Broker, 
mentioned in Selwyn's correspondence. " 1 received 
letter to-day [11 Aug. 1739] in such a hand 
never beheld, from Sir Sampson Gideon, nov 
Eardley, a name I never heard of before, to dine wil 



.t his hous 



"(G«rg.S. 



bj E. S Roscoe, 1S99, p. 153). Gideon's ion bee 
Baron Eardley of Spalding. 

ii. The Hillary •/ lfj-/-iHu is told in Gibbon't D. 
aid Full, vol vi. p, 14 (ch xlvii.) of Smith's 1 
In iSj3 Charles ICingtley based his well-kn 



Jrw in the Auemlil)' of Stock-jobber! at Jinjiiaii'i'' 
(^SfataUr, No. i}. 

S5. Piitiir Friffa.-^Sm Ei^iry his lit Pmi'l Slair of 
FeliU LiarmFig u Eurofe^ ITJ?) P- '5> where Freijo ■ 
" book of vulgar errors, " that " to finely exposes the 
monkiah Btnpitfity of ihe limee," it referred Co. 

67. Miiallancot,,.— Mr S. T. Irwin (Six Dialigaa ^ 
Lucinn, 1E94, xi. n.) finds in thii paper an exsmpfe 
of the turn of humour of Lucian's " Nigrinui," where 
the writer " permita a friend to ridicule, with 
sufficient justice, bit rhetorical apologiet and long- 
winded prebce." 

61. liii Saliigh . . . Iiy tunug my ■imuiri^I.— Thi> 
is a refereuce to the old, and now discredited storjr, 
copied by Aubrey from Winifaniey-i E„gIUh Ifirliia, 
1660. to the etTect that Raleigh burned a second pan 
of his Hiji^n/ i/I/k World because of the small success 
of the first inilolment. 

69. itarkia, Pailtrily Goldsmith, unlike many 

anotber, did not make this appeal in Tain. (^, his 
letter to Robert Bryanton, 14 Au^, 1758. 

69. rM> lit gantlept.—So properly spelled. Cf. Turn 
Jonci, Bk. vii. ch. xi. '-Some said ... that he 
deserted to run the gajillii/n." 

70. omly a^rovg,—" For fools admire, but men of 
■erne -fpr^,." (Pope's £^.o> «. Critichm, 1711. 1. 391). 

yi. Ilii hamUd Bridge al Blaii/tiari filackfriars 

Bridge was begun in 1760. and opened in 1769. 

Tl. fiur niratrdinars pigiL—Ste antt. p. 6. 

7a.an»/d;cm««<»c.— Here Goldsmith, likeAddison 
(sometimes), makes " the one " correspond, not with 
the former, but with the latter. And Johnson would 
not hare permitted him to lay" the one," which he re- 
garded as "Scotch "(Fanny Burney'sZlMry, 1 891, i, 38). 

71. tluaunt/lit King i/PrfiiiM.— The courts of the 
eondnental loieteignt leem la have been a favourite 
wajE-work exhibition, In Hogarth's Smlitiiart Ptir 
cne of the announcements runs : — "The whole court 
of France is here." See also fail, p. i+i. 

So. jiiW/uir jtari art.— At the date of this paper, 
17 October 1759, Goldsmith was liiiiig at Ho, 11, 



rja NOTES 

Green-Arb our- Court, which eitended from the uppei 
eod of the Old Bailey into Sea-coal Lnoe, aa B ritq 
DOW abiorbed by the Holborn Visduct and Riilwar 
Station (see frontispiece to fn^^r „f W,>k.Ji.U (Jm^ 
Ctaiiia'^ He had only be«n there siau; the end of 
17JS, 10 hit "about four years ago" mast hLve bee^ 
a poetic licence, ai wai alio, in all ptohltbllity, thi 
maid with ber < ■ fatal braom " (p. So). 

g|. J.«,;4»(an,«/i«.(jl..«l.— Bewick (JVf«./r 
ed. 1S87, p. ji) recDidi a similar experiment. IL 
Bewick's case, however, the spider aciacked chcwwp 
bywhomitwasimmediatelyitung. aodpiK 10 ffi^ 

gj. huKgtr. — Thi» paper, which was not rfeprlma 
in the Eaayi ai 1765, alTordt a pleasant roretaite of th 
more fortunate pagei of jtnimaied Nalin-t. It 1b n 
ceisary, however, to observe that it diqiI be regirdi 
a< literature rather than accurate natural hitiorr. 

g;. m<^l rrfikH.—HeTe Goldsmith falls into one 
the errors to which he refers. 

(-at.— The reward fixed by the Act of 1714 for 3l 
discovery of the longitude at sea was pitied by Joh 
Harrison of Foulby, near Pontefmct (1S9J-177S), ' 

91. Minn an dci^HicJ.—Sei: ante, p. 63. 

94. Wr arc arrhtd at a prr/ict imhalUrt 5/" fartdait.- 
The manuficture of porcelain was cstabliahed 1 
Woi-ceslerin 1750. Hut porcelain had been made 1 
Bow and Chelsea before 169S. 

96. ganUhiiJrudBm^, etc.— Goldsmith probably-r 
fert here, not to the "Rarniih" paid by prisoner* 1 
the gaol officials, etc., but to the sume exaccod apt 
entering a trade, i.^. the beuvenue (linreaiKe) 1 
" footing " fee contributed to the printer's " chapel 
by a workman on taking up a fresh office CZUi 
Mr Thimai ficin, PrmUri/rori, 1831, p. tj), O • 
■mith had himself been a corrector of the prei« m 
Samuel Richardson at Salisbury Court. 

96. 1b lie lovini and annlria Thil it a Ql 

eighteenth - century lentimony to the cause 
temperance. 

97. Md^hir ptili ,/,KiHy — This is rather hard tl 



tome grudge. But so apparenilj' had Johnson : — 
" Their iimbush here releirtleti ruffiani lay. 
And b.r. »•/,« ....™, ,™;,/., ,r,." 
he >ingl in 11. IJ-16 of Landau. 

GoldBmitli makes it ibe "failing" of Hickey In 
HcUlialisii, 1. 156, that he wa< a "ipeclal altornejr." 

99. <u Bniaamkal Janrnal.—ln the Ciliiia afilu Warld 
{Timpie Clmiia), i. 14.9, the obscure phllaiopher of 
Ureen-Arbour-Cotirt seenin to anticipate "Axe Reuic-w 
of JUvia-a,,. Here he clearly foreiew the Board of 
TriJ, Jeurnal. 

101. yitt,! «l s.:)*™.— This quotation ia from 
Efif, i. iS, I. 9, thus paraphrased by Coningloni — 

•■ Between these faults 'tti virtue'i place to stand 
At distance from the entreme on either hand." 

104. (fe ward " /ni^xrfor".— This was Mr (or Sir) 
John Hill, i7iG'75, a voluminous scribbler and quack. 
He wrote Tic I^fcctsr for the Lwdan Dmig Advtrlh^r. 

loj. JriiirJ U iuf.— Hill wai remarkable for the 
splendour of his costume. 

105. carrying italhing but n noiega^. — This is said To 
be an allusion to the fact tliat in 17J9 Hill produceil 
four works on botanical subjects, 

IS), a rigadacn — Presumably a rigadoon jli/i (like 
Damii'i in TalUr No. 34), for the rigadoon was a 
dance for two persons. '■ 1 led him by the Hand 
into the nest Room, where we danced a Riffiili^- 
together " (Guardian, No. 154.^. 

105. litptrim. — Probably Arthur Murphy, author 
of the Orfian ^ Ciina, a tragedy based upon Voltaire 
and produced at Drury Lane, April 11, 1759. Gold- 
amith reviewed it in the Critical Scv'icin lot lAa.-j , 17J9. 

loj, nmfwhal , . , licalric.il. — Murphy began ai an 
actor al Covent Garden. He quitted the Stage ht 
the Bar. 

106. v/rlw.— Goldsmith (in the Crilimi Sevinv) 
thought Murphy had " perhaps too frequently men- 






pet, 






understo"'' , j^^,^ iiO""18 ,, urge »* '' 
""'SEdtal.-J'' K "I'm *• ■'■""tt.r.." <^ 






and had .» ^e "P jf|„«.— By „ johnw" " 

I ,.?., ■■. '«'■ .,» -The fl";',' ■;, AmertsW. " 
" ■'t^SSi "- nrtiS d. ."■ "" 

„6. 0- EJ"'-"" , 



NOTES 273 

Id. »ii., indis here reproduced trom the edition of i ;6S, 
hete ihe roUowing note is prefixed to it; — "IJ.B. 
'his treatise wai pnbliihed before Rouiieau'i Emaiui ; 
there be a sitnilitade in any one inBlaace, it it hoped 
ie author of the preient <!uay will not be deemed 
plsgiaritt" RoHBiem'a Emllt; oh, Ji I'&ducalam 
appeared in 1761. 

- iJ^.lluuiha.-~(^.ciap.%3.,oltt«LykartflValufiiU 
{Tmplc CImilci), pp. iis-S). Goldsmith himielf had 
"--sn an nihei at Dr Milner'i academy at Peckham. 
113. naixn-i. — Cf. pp. 63 and 91. Goldtmith wemi 
< hate had a kindDetafor miteo, 

113. IiiUaJ . . . afrtmiaai ThiiKtiteDce (down to 

poisesEed of "), without actually mentioning niinei, 
em» to prefer the method of Richardtan and Hogarth 
;fore that of Fielding. 

1 16. Thire ka. if hu a gf^Uman u/pftfarf J.— Thomas 
leridan, father oE the dramaliat, wVo wii, at tliia 
dace, di'liveriog a Course of Leccurei on Elocotion and 
the Engliah Language. 

:]o. 0* thi Ustabitit^, etc. — This is reprinled in the 
Eiiayt, No. vii!., and \» here reproduced (rum the 
'■ ■ n of 1766. 

i. lU loll Duki if MarlbsrKigh.—C.'laAe* Speocer, 
Duke of Marlborough, who died of ■ (erer. id 
October ^^$%, at Munster in Weiiphalia. 

Eunfr. — Thii ahowi that the Idea which pranpCed 
(he CHixri 0/ lh' World was already a familiar one 
with Goldsmith. 

133. an undiiaverid prt/itrlu in ike peli/fie. — Perhapi I 
reference to the paper publiibed by the Royal Society 
on Che Preth Water Polypni which Fielding ridiculed 
In vol. i. of hi! Mhtrllanicj, 1743, p. 153 f'Tif 
~ ™(W./ Ciryif,. •■). 

34. I*. AtrriKgJ^iiry cmflsyid ali Cnt-Slral.—Ttt« 
tish White Herring FiehcTf Company Wai inili- 
luted in 1750, and under ICt protection herring* 
became very plentiful. Itt aecretary and laureate 
aa one John Lockman, known popularly is the 
Herring Poet." In Hogarth's Ser Slncl, 17JI, 



J74 NOTES 

the lithwomen an: sliewn singing quit of Lockmaii 
lateil baUidi oa chit theme, nhich had crezCed 
fi,™-. at Viuxhall Garden.. The '■ Herring ftjel 
WW sn InduaCiiout translator fron:i the Freach t 
giioeil tome reputicioD with that nation fo 
venloD of the Hmiiailf, a subject afterWardi em 
by Goldamith'i friend, Ned Punlan For vol. i.' ( 
another of Lockman'i tranilationB, the Abb£ de I 
VonfXIDeaTravdi tf Mr John GMtlnrr, ■73I,Ho«nj 
who Jeem* to have been intimate with tne translate 
executed a frdntiipiece {<ee also Cillicai of lie Ww 
iTcmfU Claries), iL pp. X31 and 145). 

140. Wia* Tiw Aarty ancim.—See floileau, L'A\ 
J'kHj-i, Chant I.:— 

■■ Ce qne I'on concoic tiien s'fnonce clah-ement, 
Et les mots pour le dlri; arrivent aiwment." 

■41, a ceiiirafr J firMiitr.^l eUD-haplitte Maullli 
Blnhop of Clermont, l66}-i74i, Much of wl 

a paper not here rB])rinEed, but which forms No. xi 
nf the Eiiayr of 176; and 176S, See liit at nate 
p. 167. 

144. the Bimgiritia Catilrrvirij. — Am lie out oi a • 
nion preached bafure Georjfe 1, (31 Match 1717) by : 
Beniamin Haadly, Bishop of Bangort, upon. John xvi 
" My kingdom is not of this world." It wi 
' ' royal command, and gaie ri>e to a iti 

ISO. U> fr>,.«' Khg of i-r^^m.-In the .0-ca 
Cade Fridcri^iK. Napoleon did the same in the 1 
NafalUn. 

154. ikeM. 0. wife— " B, O." wa« another name 
roulette, E and O being the letters on the band! 
ringt. There is an early and weU-known carical 
by Rowlandson entitled " E. 0.,- •>-, ii< FaiAhn 
Fotiidi"(iS October lySi)- 

160. /•r/nwfViyfM.— Thiswmthecharaoiertakenh 
Comacini at the Haymarket in the Operu of FiJognt, 

-'- " " Jean-Philippe Rnmeau. 1683 



dbyr, 
ncalpa 




N0TG8 275 

i$a. MateL — TJiefam<»U8 Italian songstvtAS, ColcFmba 
Mattei. << The , Mattel (laasure- you) is much im- 
proved by his- ^disi's] exaihple, and by . her great 
success this winter '':i(Grayta'i Mason, 22 January 
1761). ^Seealso p. -i6o« 

163. Giifrnacini, See note to pag^-^ 60. 

16.7. Miscellaheous Essays '-^GiAAhtmtW^ Essays vrere 
first published in 1765 by W. Oriflftn in Fetter Lane, in 
x2mo; and coiiitained twisnty-seveh: essays. A second 
edition followed in 1766 (when Griffin had moved to 
Catherine Street)^ and included two more essays 
(Nos. XXVii ind XXVIK). The second edition, 
like the first, has no table of << Contents," but the 
twenty-nine essays are as specified below. Those 
already printed in this volume, and those not re- 
printed here at all, are, shown in Italic type : — 

ThePrefece, ' 

I. Introductory. (Ffom No, i of The Bee, see 

p. 3 ante.) 
II. Alcander and Septimius, (From No, I 0/ The 
Bee, see p* 1^ ante,) 

III, Happiness of Temper. (From 'No, 2 0/ The 

Bee, see p. 39 ante.) 

IV. A Description of various Clubs. 

V. On the Use of Language, (From No. 3 of The 

• Bee, see p. 48 ante. ) 
VI. Generosity and Justice. (From No, 3 of The 

Bee, see p, 60 ante, ) 
VII. Edutittidh ofTouth, (^From No. 6 of The Bee, 
see p, lis ante,) 
' Viri; JVor/diy GrdMr. (Fr&m No. 6 tff The Bee, 
• see p. t-^o aidi.^ * '•' 

IX. SpeeiVkietY of si' Magazine In Miniature. 
X. BeauTtMs. {See Citizen of the World (Tetnple 

' Ulassits), 1. p. 263.] 
XI. Beau Tibbs, continued. \See Citizen of the 

World (Temple Classics), i. p. 267.] 
XII. C&unsel to Youth, [See Citizen if the World 

(Temple Classics)^!!, ip, Xl,"] !' 

XIII. Om Mdk Dogs. {See Citiren of fhe World 
(Teuiple Classics'), ll. 'pi 71.] 



nf, NOTES 

Xl\'- Lif. «^d Agt. [S« (:>7«M ./■ thi tF«^U 

XV. O™-, (Fna*Nt.iqfTJii:Bcr,ia 
XVI ABeni. an Eaiiern Tale. 
XVII, Ob (A,^ £iijyu:t C/t™ o-rrf Pi-fiMiar Pnadun: 

[NolpriiUidhiri. Sa hoU la fi. 142.] 

XVIII, TAr SxplonliiH a/ Ada. [Su CiliaiH tf lit 

if^rUiT^^pU aa,sit.), ii. p. 1J4.] 

XIX, A Rererie at ihe Boar's Head. 
XX. QBiKif. [S« 0(j.t™ 0^ the IFtrU {Tl 

Cl«.k.),i.p. ..3,andii, p Sj.] 
XXI. Adientnret of a Strolling Player. 
XXli, Rulf tt it etiirwd ,.l a Rtiam Ai 
[Net priiacd lurr.-) 

XXIII. Til Gaim ij Lm. [See CilmiH «ftki 

{TmplcClai,U,),\i,p 16 » } 

XXIV. Lifiif aCmmm S,d<ihr. [Sie Olinm^lln 

WerU [Timfli CLiiua), u. p. 184.] 
XXV. Suppoied lo have been written by th 

Ordinary of Newgate. 
XXVI, On the Superabundance u) Addieiio t 

XXVil. Seeing the Coronalian. 
XXVIII. Til DbhUi TransfcrnuaUH. \^$ri Paatj (Timph 
CU,»a), p. 90.] 
XXIX. (marked XIX.) A New Simile. [Sit 

(rfl-/i.c;^w),p. 9S-] 



167. IjtrGWfFoCKiXdM.—GoidiinitliliiinieUwrota 
a pampiilet on [bis lubject which hu been piautil ' 
bat not cnncluaively, identified with one beating 



by Newbery'» rltal, W, BrUtow, of St Paul'. Ciiuri: 

167. Mf liigc if Tianbrage Ticondrraga {Nor ._ 

America) was taken from the French by Aberctombj^ 
16th July 1759. 

167. iow'f. — Coldimitli probably employed tU^ 
orthography of ■• channel " intentionally. 



NOTES 277 

6i. PhlliKflu, ,1c — Goldsmiib usei theae niunei in 

V^uar ^ Wak4itd{Ta.fk CJaiiu,), p. 130, 

Gg, In pi/lagr til And. ~~KeaAeTs of 3ariia6sJiii>lgcwiM 

remember how Dickens's Denni* the hangman clathet 

himself from the wardrobe of hia clienEa (chapter 39), 

169. ii*ijiii'«ifrily.— After thiajintheeditlon of 1765, 
followed :— " Mr Posterity. Sir, Nine hundred and 
ninetj-nine years after sight hereof, pay the beater, 
or order, a ihoucand pound'i worth of praise, free 
from all deduction! whacsoerer, it being a commodity 
that will then be so lery serviceable to him, and 
place it to ihe accompt of, etc," 

170. A Dmriftion af Varua Uuii Tills Easay firat 

appeared In the Bmy Bsify for ijth Oct. 1759. It is 
here reprinted from ihe Snayi of 1766 (No. IV.). 

170. S/a-rilrr'i Cogic Hvmc This, which existed 

lIDCil 1S41, stood in St Martin's Lane (No, 75), cliMB 
lo the southern corner of Great Newport Street, It 
was pulled down to make room for Uie prolongation 
of Cranbaiirn Street. 

1. /ly Ltmr. — l»y Lane lies between Newgate 
I and Paternoster Row. Here the 6ctir[aua Hum 
Drum Club <if the J'AK/afor (No. 9) held its meetings; 
ind here also, at the King's Head, a " bmoui beef- 
iteak house," from 1749 to 1756, the actual Ivy Lane 
Club of Johnson was wont to aaaemhle fKawkina's 
JJfi ,fj,kn,m, 17S7, pp. 119. 360). 

171. liiF«i,drrg Thiswaa a rninoua old building 

which, like Bedlam, was in Moorfielda, It aiood on 

ite of what was alterwards Providence Row, and 
iDce been used as a foundry for cannon. Wesley 

leased it to preach In. It Is Rrst referred to in bis 
al under 13rd July 1740 (" Our little company 
t the FauiJerf, Instead of Fetter Lane ') ; and it 

Is often meniioned afterwards, 

). •■ Death and thi Ladi,."—See Bell's Balladi ifthr 
*"»• '>57i P' 3*1 {/■ »>*o '^•^ n/ H'^lififld 

\Trmfli CUiiic.), p. 100. I 

177. SaiKiiialhiit, Mafllu and Anuiu.— Goldsrallh 

afterwards used these In the Fkar -/ Ifaii/UU {Temfit 

"' ■")■ P- 79- 



pp" 



278 NOTES 

177. AM Druggir.~A character in Ben Jomon' 
Alchtmhl. It wus a fomoui part of Girrick. 

17S. Mr£<iu«ii/<a/.— iDFieldiag'sZanrAifH^, 173a 
the ghoil of Tin 7»«iiii ia killad hy Lotd Griiile. 

iSi. Tatlf,Sacrtdc>,ia>daart It will beob)«TV«4 

chst thi«enligbtetied '< loiUtyof mora] philMopheti " 
made thiee auihan out of tno. 

iSl. Sprciwiat of a Mjgaiint in Miniiifi'fv.-rAppI 
andy lirtt printed in the Eiiay of 1765 (No IX.), 

183. ^ur txlraanlinaiy faga a/ latrr-fmi. — Qf, ppi 
6 and 71. 

188. ^wo, a>i Sarirrn Ttf^f. — Apparently fint 
printed in the Euay, of 1765 (No. XV[.). 

198. A Mrvcrlc fl( tkc Bcor-i-HijJ. —Tint 

appearnl in the February, March and April niunberr 
ol the Briliih Maraxim for 1760. Ii is here primed 
from the E.stys 0^1766 (No. XIX.)- 

199. Bsar'i-Heai Tavrrn Goldimitli wai in 

"arili Itept at Eaittlnap." As a matter of fatt, the 
original home wai burned duwn in tlie Great Fire. 
It was rebuilt soon after, and was eventually pullc4 
down in 1831. 

115, at Primcn. — A now unknown game of card«. 
FalMaff, in the itftrrji »*y™ ,a/ WinAsi-, Act. iv, S*. 
5, sayi he"neTer prospered aince he forewoce hinudl 

II K. ASt-tum Ufa Sirtlling PUgrr.—TMs ettaj firs 
appeared in the Brlliii M.iga%i-! lot October 1760, 
Itii here printed from the £»aj'Jof 1766 (No. XXI.). 

iig. aioai the hear. — Si Junes'* Park, and especially 
the walk between theMall and ihePark Wall, known 
u the Green, or Duke Humphrey'. Walk, WM I 
fiivoured resort of bxtixi^ periani, whu were popD< 
tarly said to be engaged in "counting the Treeafoi 
a Dinner" (Lbvb Lift [i75i]> p. 30), 

-I19. tinaiM.a-maitri in finitm-ir^ Limr.—RosemiVy 
Lane, or Rag Fair, now Royal Mint Street, WHw, 
chapel, li a haunt of -dealers in old. clothea. "" 
puppet-thow nittn prabably anld his |iiippet!i li 



NOTES 279 

.2'X/9. /« bkmy thtnhalf'*penee,^^,e, to Aiibsci^lbe, con- 
tribute, or "be good. for** my share. QLTom Jones, 
BKv XT., ch. l£,v« I said I would be my pot too." And 
Burna's AuldLang Spnc, second stanza ^~. 

" And surely ye'ii h your pint stOW|jT' 
■■.'■ And surely I'll' 5/ ttiinel > ' 

And well tak' a cup o'.k^iidriess yet . * 

For auid lang syri6;*'''' 

.. ; • . I . , . . ..•..,...■■. 

220. fondlings of nature, — Pets, darlings.. Cf* *i%!«r 
of Wakefield (Temple- Giatties), p^ 1 2. 

221. pfiints ^tnoan — A point of war i* a 'strain of 
martial music. Cf^ Toiler, No'. 95, " We were alarmed 
with the noise of a drum, and immediately entered 
my little god son to give me ^ point of war,** 

230. Aidervtan Smyg^r, <fan old merchant," is—* 
like Sir Harry Wildair^^^one of the characters in 
jPdrquhar's comedy of Tke Contiaut Couple; "or,. a Trip 
tA the Juiilee, <■,->■. 

231. Supposed to be Written^ etc. — Apparently first 
printed in the Essays of 1765 (No. XXV.). 

231. Mr The, Cibben — Theophilus Gibber, born in 
1703, and drowned in 1758, on his way to Dublin,)was 
the son of Colley Gibber, and, like his Bither, an actor. 
His second wife was Arne's sister, Susannah Maria 
Arne (see p. 4.6 ante), the famous tragic actress. 
Profligate and prodigal, he was always.^n debt and 
difficulty. Under .the title of: An Apology for the 
Life of Mr T. . . . C, . . . Comedian, a spurious bio- 
graphy of him was published in 1740. ft ik 
sometimes, but erroneously, ascribed to Henry 
Fielding... i . : : 

23^. paduasoy^-'>-tijtL soieA'Ifadoue(V^duSL)j introduccfd 
into this country by the iiefngees^ aftier the revocation 
of thfi Edict of Nantes. 

^235. On thoSuperabimdance, eto^^uThis paper first 
appears in the j£//«ty» of - i76d,' <pp. 229034 (J&My 
3cx.¥i.), from, which it is here reprinted. 

235. t/te last coronation. -^i^i, that of >>George Ili.^ 
2;lnd A^ptember 1761. Of. Citinfm of the World {Teft^ple 
dwnics), ii. pp. 223.26; 



NOTES 

.,6. JHrJ''?'^^^„ the !•""*•"■, , ,„il* /"''^ . 

•1«' C -* " '»■«"'"' , ,,„ „p.... 
"" \ mr. Tfci. P'»" ■"" .!n 1,<"" 












It*- ' 






. Bu. when f ^°ht«P» "'^P^ " „ jT- 

Five gtea'T "'8 ^^^,f,rm'"" '■^'^ 






produced »tCov= .^i-""^ ,n^""'"«'' ' 



^- 



NOTES 281 

by Nivelle de La Chauss^e in 1733, and developed, not 
without colour from Richardson and Rousseau, by- 
Voltaire, Diderot, Sedaine, and, in his earlier plays, 
by Beaumarchais. Passing in mid-career to England, 
it took the form of << sentimental comedy," its most 
popular exponents being Hugh Kelly, of False Delicacy^ 
1768, and Richard Cumberland, of the West Indian^ 
1771. Goldsmith's definition of this class of play is 
to be found at p. 149. 

Z46. Le comique. — See UArt Poetique, chant iii., 
where the precept is borrowed from the Versibus 
exponi tragicis res comica non vult of Horace, Ars Poetical 
1. 89. 

250. Humour at present seems to be departing ^rom the 
Stage.'—Ci. ch. xviii. of the Hear of Wakefield {Temple 
Classics), p. Ill: << the public think nothing about 
dialect, or humour," etc. 

250. Tabernacle. — Probably Whitefield's Tabernacle 
in Tottenham Court Road. Cf. note to p. 171. 

251. A Register of Scotch Marriages, — This letter, as 
its heading shows, was addressed to the Editor of The 
Westminster Magazine, in which it appeared in Feb- 
ruary 1773 (vol. i. p. 137), and from which it is here 
reprinted. 

253. Rosemary Lane, — See note to p. 219 ; and cf. 
Act. V. of The Good-Natur'd Man, where Miss Macfag 
and her footman husband are said to << keep separate 
cellars in Hedge Lane." Like the assumed writer of 
this paper, the speaker in the play is a landlady, 
whose opinion is also that << Scotch marriages seldom 
turn out well." 



. t 



} .. 



, >-• 



■ -i * 



•..1 



r; 



\ 



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